


Don't Deactivate Me

by NittyGrittyBonBon



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: I ship it but it's gunna be a long burn, It gets happier later, Just tagging the ship is a major spoil already smh, M/M, Markus gets WRECKED by Machine Connor, RK900 and RK800 HATE each other at first, RK900 is one of many androids deployed, This gets pretty dark at first, angst at the start, failed revolution, machine connor - Freeform, temporary major character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22646644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NittyGrittyBonBon/pseuds/NittyGrittyBonBon
Summary: "My name is Connor, RK900. My predecessor was unfortunately deactivated," the android stated coolly. He had none of the emotional inflictions his partner had and sounded like a soldier ready for battle, "I am one of the 200,000 units of Connors deployed nationally to aid in the neutralization and capture of any of the remaining deviants after the revolution. I have been assigned your partner in the Detroit Police Department, seeing as you have had experience working with my prototype."Hank felt his heart drop. Everything after his first statement went of his head. Connor had been deactivated. His partner. The goofy looking dumbass who was finally showing signs of life. Deactivated. That was the same thing as being officially dead, wasn't it?....RK900 struggled to work with the lieutenant he was assigned to. The DPD had known the man had worked very closely with his prototype, so they assigned him with the lieutenant. But the man hated him, and was attached to his obsolete predecessor.He may have to investigate the RK800 further. He may have to bend some rules. After all, RK800 had done it, and without having done so, he'd never have suceeded his mission.
Relationships: Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900
Comments: 212
Kudos: 218





	1. RK900

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is a tricky "path" I selected. Connor and Hank were friends, but Connor never deviated. If you stick with being his friend, you can still shoot the chloe, get the jericho stuff, (and avoid dealing with perkins and gavin in the evidence room.) I also have the rooftop confrontation scene where Connor chooses to leave instead of having a scuffle with Hank.

The last time he saw Connor physically, it had been at the roof top. Connor had given up his quest to snipe the deviant leader due to their friendship, but Hank knew in his heart the android had gone to finish his mission at a much more personal distance.

He wondered if that wasn't just the most basic shred of humanity stored within him. He had spared him even though he was interfering with his mission. And fucking hell, Hank wanted to stop him, but the kid was long gone. Something in him snapped. Driven blind by the mission in his system, Hank new there was no reasoning with him until he rode it out. Which sadly enough, had massive consequences...

The android had not spared Markus. The last sighting of Connor was on the news. Every screen displayed the entire revolution, and he watched in disappointment as the swat team moved to collect all the androids. To collect Markus. The deviant leader had been killed in cold blood by the android sent by cyberlife. Connor moved away, presumably to report back to his company. 

Connor had ended the revolution, and now androids everywhere had lost hope. Anderson could feel himself tense, even the morning after it all, as the sun rose and dawned the new day. He waited at the empty chicken feed, vaguely wondering why he waited there in the first place. For Connor, maybe? He felt it was mildly nostalgic to him. After all, it was the first time he had developed a mild connection with Connor. But he waited in the cold in loneliness. It wasn't like he told Connor to meet him there, it was silly. So he made his way to work.

He knew Connor was not like those androids. He hadn't deviated, he hadn't strayed away from Cyberlife's orders. But could anyone blame him for searching the subtle hints of empathy within him? Was it all really human predictability? Connor had kept him from killing himself, machine or not, there was something more human in the android that just simply wasn't allowed to grow. It was all to soon, and everything was far too rushed. Connor was getting there, dammit!

He wondered if he could work to convince him to get in touch with that part of him. To be more than just the machine. He wanted that buddy to drink with. Connor wasn't emotionless. He made mistakes, he had doubts, and he wasn't a mindless drone. 

If there was one thing Connor had taught him, it was resilience. He was friends with him, that was for sure. He knew about Cole, spoke of that dark moment in that cold and calculated tone, but at the end of the day Connor had hoped that he could overcome his misery. A machine told him that, and programmed or not, that shit meant something to him. Especially after all they went through and all the weakness Connor saw in him. Humans these days were rare to have sympathy for a washed out cop like himself. 

They had to talk about this when he got back. In fact, that's probably the first thing he was going to mention. He wanted to start over with Connor. Maybe persuade him that things SHOULD change, hell, he did, so why couldn't his plastic friend also-

"Lieutenant Anderson," the familiar called. 

Hank turned, ready to throw a quip at him until he turned from his chair to see his that partner looked different. 

"You...," his voice trailed off, looking over his android partner. First off, his face was sharper and his eyes looked blue. His coat was different, and white. The model number on his coat...RK900.

What was happening?

"My name is Connor, RK900. My predecessor was unfortunately deactivated," the android stated coolly. He had none of the emotional inflictions his partner had and sounded like a soldier ready for battle, "I am one of the 200,000 units of Connors deployed nationally to aid in the neutralization and capture of any of the remaining deviants after the revolution. I have been assigned your partner in the Detroit Police Department, seeing as you have had experience working with my prototype."

Hank felt his heart drop. Everything after his first statement went of his head. Connor had been deactivated. His partner. The goofy looking dumbass who was finally showing signs of life. Deactivated. That was the same thing as being officially dead, wasn't it?

"Why?" He breathed, not realizing he had even said the word out loud. 

The android before him rose a brow, taking the question at face value from his introduction, "My mission is to handle any matters pertaining to deviants, so as to never deal with such matters ever again in the future."

The lieutenant glared at him, standing up to do so. Jesus, this guy was as tall as him. He pushed the thought aside, addressing the android before him.

"That's not what I fucking meant," he gritted out, trying to control his temper, "I'm asking why my previous partner was deactivated. He accomplished his mission, so what more did you want from him?"

The android, the fucking imposter, had the gall to look confused, "He was obsolete. I am faster, stronger, more resilient, and equipped with the latest technologies. There was no reason for him to continue working here when I could easily replace him."

"No you fucking can't," Hank growled, pointing a shaky digit at him and pressing it against his chest at each word, "you just. Can't. do that!" 

The RK900 merely returned an unimpressed gaze.

"I understand, Hank," the android commented, his tone civil, "humans tend to grow fond of things they are accustomed to, and this also includes androids. I assure you that I will serve as someone you can confide in."

His heart ached. He felt like shit, and suddenly, instead of rage he felt outright despair. Connor was gone. It took his breath away, and he could feel himself go dizzy with the thought. Was this what the kid had wanted? Did the kid even know he would be deactivated? They were... they had been friends.

He thought back to the time he had been hanging off the roof. Connor had saved him. But while he spared the tracis, he did not spare the Chloe. He shot her. After all, Connor had kept fucking up. He had already allowed so many deviants to slip between his fingers, so he was getting desperate. Right? Was there a difference to any of this shit? Connor understood empathy, but he'd been so set in this mission that he seemed to have no room for that empathy toward androids specifically. He negated any sense of showcasing emotion, but Hank knew better. Hank had stopped him TWICE from getting a deviant in favor of his own life. One being the fucking leader of the revolution. All he had needed to do was allow himself to recognize that. 

Was he scared? Did he ever have doubts? Hank was so hung up with himself that he never thought to consider the fear that the android faced at not being able to complete his mission. How had he felt? Being murdered after doing the job he was made to do?

"Lieutenant, you do not look well," the blue eyed android informed him, "might I suggest you sit down? I'm sure you simply need time to take this all in."

Anderson looked up at him, "You're not my partner," his voice was so low the only indication he knew it was heard was the slight lean forward the android made to hear it.

"I'm afraid that is not up for debate," he replied, turning to sit on the desk that belonged to Connor- fucking prick-

"Hey! Where the fuck do you think you're sitting?" He called out to him, watching as he sat primly on the rolling chair, "That's Connor's seat!"

"I am Connor, Lieutenant," the android replied, his eyes narrowing minutely, "while I will overlook this behavior due to the suddenness of my appearance, I won't allow you to interfere with my work."

The android then proceeded to connect to the terminal, logging in easily into the server of the precinct.

"I need a drink," Hank murmured, his tone defeated. He recalled the last thing Connor had said to him before he left the roof.

 _I'm glad to have met you Hank. I hope you can get over what happened to your son_.

"Jesus Christ," he hissed in a shaky voice, pinching the bridge of his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, now we get another son he gotta get over. Thanks Cyberlife, I hate it.
> 
> Also I have NO IDEA about them updates yo. I'm writing two other self-indulgent stories. And uh. Yeah.


	2. Move on, Lieutenant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anderson is stuck working deviant cases, and he isn't exactly happy with his job right now. He also really hates this new partner that's NOTHING like his friend. His new partner is a monster.
> 
> RK900 has not been able to execute his mission at optimal levels. Lieutenant Anderson still insists on his favor towards his prototype. It's very troublesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more background on how Cyberlife is handling the deviants, and our two partners contemplate about each other until they hit their first cat fight.

To Hank, Connor RK800 had been difficult in the sense that sometimes he pretended to have emotions and then suddenly slipped a real one in. It was what made him so special to the lieutenant. RK900 on the other hand, had no such inflictions. He was all pretend.

Along with his altered looks, he noticed the android had a deeper voice than his former friend. He had no nervous ticks like coin flipping and when cases were sent to him he didn't blink rapidly like a goof ball. His tone had less of the innocent inquiries, and more of a calculated and detached approach. Rather than openly curious about his environment with wide eyes and an eager stride, this android stalked around. His brows always low and scouting his surroundings like a silent predator. 

The fucker could run inhumanly fast, too. He exponentially gained on any android with swift ease. There were no extensive maze chases or obstacle courses to power through in pursuit of any deviant. The RK900 was an absolute carnivore. Hank had been aware that Connor had earned the title _Deviant Hunter_ , and it sure as hell made him wonder what the RK900 was called to these poor bastards.

As a whole, the post-revolution situation was all just a fucking mess. According to Cyberlife's new protocol, all RK900s were tasked to capture, interrogated, and send each deviant directly to a Cyberlife HQ for further study. Part of the company's new policy was to research the deviants. Each android sent had to include a report detailing the context of their behavior. This would let them know if the android needed immediate deactivation or was to be stored for further study. 

Granted, in order to ensure the company was not submitting bias reports, each RK900 required the signed approval of their handler. In other words, the android detective needed Hank's signature upon each report written.

The smallest mercy in his conscious was that the company wanted them alive. Some longer than others. Hank knew that for him, all it really meant nothing more than preventing his own hands from spilling their blood. But was he really blameless when he was the one sending them to their deaths? He was the one holding the leash on the hound sent to chase them down, wasn't he? A hound that was ironclad against showing a hint of empathy. 

And God, he wished he wasn't just some random washed up cop. He had no power to stop this. It ate at him to see these androids shoved into the patrol car, pushed around by RK900, and scared beyond their wits on what could only be their death sentence. He was mad at this Connor for what he was doing, he was mad at his Connor for what he had done, but in reality, he supposed he was actually mad at Cyberlife. He watched as his partner pulled in another deviant, easily placing him into the interrogation room. 

The RK900 normally did most of the interrogations, but this deviant was shaking like a leaf, having put up a fight against the powerful machine and having his arms broken in the process. Hank would have to talk about this later.

"Listen kid," Hank informed the android calmly, "I get that you're scared. I get that you're worried. And between you and me? I think you really _are_ alive."

He could see the android next to him shift at that statement.

"Then let me go," the android pleaded weakly, never lifting his gaze from the table.

"I... I can't," the lieutenant whispered sadly, "but I'll make the process go smoothly for you. That's all I can do for now. We can go over what you've done, and you explain _exactly_ why you punched your owner and broke their jaw."

"I don't care about the process! It doesn't matter what I say!" The android cried out. He began trying to struggle against his cuffs, "you can't just kill us one by one!"

Hank grimaced, "everything you say matters, kid. How they treat you, how they talk to you, how you see it, how it changed you. We all know what the endgame is," Hank clenched his jaw, "you'll either get deactivated or put in storage. So let's aim for storage, alright?"

RK900 noticed the android's stress levels lowered quite a large margin. Anderson slowly guided the android into idle talk. Pointless topics, small inconsequential matters, and particular likes and dislikes the android had. His name was Travis. He liked listening to rock. He hated metal, but liked the art of the albums. His owner had a cat, but the cat liked him more because he fed it and took care of it. The cat's name was Janet. Connor recorded it all, but he knew a large portion of the conversation was clutter. 

That said, the confession was extracted, and the reasoning behind his actions was given. After the conversation had settled down, the deviant looked hopeless, but he nodded at the human before him.

"You won't be forgotten," Hank informed him.

The android's face was expressionless, but tears streamed down his face, "I don't want to die."

"I know, kid, I know " The lieutenant told him softly.

It was difficult to get him into stasis. Anderson had never been much of an emotional sort of man, hell, he'd spent a large portion of his life drowning said emotion in liquor, but damned if he let these androids get sent without any compassion from him.

As they sealed the android to process him, Hank placed his hand on the package.

"Hey," he called to his partner.

"Lieutenant?" RK900 asked.

"If you...," he squeezed his eyes shut, "if you delete ANY of that shit he said, important or not... I'm not gunna sign the fucking report."

"It would be a waste-,"

"That's a fucking order, alright?" the man gritted out. He let out a shaky breath, stepping back from the android and heading back to his desk. He could feel the android staring at him with those unfeeling blue eyes.

"Very well," he heard from the android behind him.

As he sat down on his desk, Anderson tried to push away the urge to break something. Not all cases were this peaceful. And fuck if this one was peaceful. He tried his best to keep the androids they captured at ease. RK900 did too, but it was entirely and solely for the purpose of extracting information. He didn't care about the little things.

And sometimes the RK900 had to manually deactivate them.

The shrill sound of desperation in their voices was seared into his mind. Or the sobs that wracking through the captured deviants as they were forcefully shoved into the vehicle by the silent android. Some tried slamming their heads into any surface he could find once the door was shut on him, but the back was padded with cushions to prevent any deviants from self-destructing.

It was starting to really get to him. He wasn't in the force so he could drag innocents into an early grave. It was fucked up that people could still think this shit was fake. It was also fucked up that this cold unfeeling bastard could keep a straight face as he plucked them off one by one in the streets.

And finally, it was even more fucked up that he could do nothing to stop it.

* * *

Lieutenant Anderson was difficult to work with. He did just enough in his job for it to qualify as doing it, but never put the effort to go above and beyond to capture any deviants. He also made the reports ridiculously tedious. His superior, when given the opportunity to interrogate, would most lower elevated stress levels enough to extract a proper confession, but would also pack said reports with a large amount of pointless data.

He would even step in and disrupt _his_ interrogations. Continuing conversation and wasting their time even after the RK900 had already gotten the information they needed. The man treated them like they were humans in therapy, and tried to befriend each one of them. 

It really begged the question: If he was so keen on being close to _those_ androids, why was he so against working with _him_?

For one, Lieutenant Anderson would never refer to him as Connor. It was always 'you,' 'hey', or some condescending nickname that had an explicit attached to it. The titles he was given were of lesser consequence, but they lead to the bigger picture. His superior went out of his way to make completing his mission difficult. 

He was slow to arrive on site when they received mission, he drank too much, and demanded special treatment for the androids they would take in. He was extremely unprofessional, and slowed down his progress. He could not begin to compare his own statistics with those of the other RK900s. Amanda was not happy with his progress.

Amanda also didn't like mentions of Lieutenant Anderson. She'd dismiss any of his inquiries with simple statements.

"He is irrelevant to your case, Connor."

"Do not involve yourself too much with him."

"I doubt that troubling yourself with his opinion of you aids in your mission, Connor."

RK900 came in fully set to work with this man, but it seemed clear that Anderson was being spiteful and childish. However, in his pursuit to demand some semblance of disciplinary action on the man, he came to the firm realization was that his lieutenant had the advantage of being under the favor of the police chief. 

He had submitted several reports against the man's unruly behavior, and made it a point to get the man's act straight. However, all he received from their superior was a distressed sigh and a quick wave off.

"I'll put it in his disciplinary report," Fowler would reply without caring to look up at the android.

"If it's all the same to you," Connor tried, "I'd like to be partnered up with someone more willing to cooperate."

That had earned him a pause, and then a vicious glare from the man.

"You don't deal the orders here, android. I do," he pointed out the door, gritting his teeth, "now get the hell out of my office before I start tagging _you_ with demerits, for pestering me over every goddamn little thing my lieutenant does that doesn't seem to fit with your perfect little coding!"

Well, that had gone over terribly. Giving the chief a firm nod, Connor dismissed himself, "understood, sir."

He strode out the door, carefully shutting the glass and made his way back to his seat, meeting the arrogant smirk of his partner.

"What's with the look?" Anderson asked sarcastically, "upset that your snitching isn't working?"

"I am not making any look. You just desire to see it," the android stated coolly, returning to his work, "This precinct is corrupted. I may need to report my complaints higher."

"Yeah?" the older man snorted darkly, "and who the hell would listen to a complaint from an android? According to the law, you guys don't mean shit. It's be like a coffee pot trying to start a union due to overuse."

"I assure you that overuse will never be a problem I'd encounter, lieutenant," Connor replied, "I am resilient, and will persist to complete my mission until my battery drains. Which is more than I can say about your own life."

A twitch. 

"I don't need this shit from you," the man muttered, gripping his cup of coffee and downing the rest of it in one go.

"Let me ask you something," The RK900 stated darkly, "why do you insist on building a terrible work environment? I am no different from the Connor you had previously. He was doing the very same thing I am, and managed to succeed in his mission due to your cooperation. It's time to move on, Lieutenant. I am the Connor you will be working with, and I expect you to get over your attachment to an obsolete model that will never return."

He noticed the inquiry made the man's stress levels elevate, and his expression immediately went from annoyed to spiteful. The RK900 knew he was treading on thin ice, but refused to back down. He'd already attempted passive and submissive routes with the man. It was time for another tactic.

"The DPD had stated that you worked cohesively with Connor, and from the footage uploaded in my system, I see that you both had gotten along just fine. Why change your attitude with me?"

"Can't handle the way I work? Then so much for the advanced model shtick. The Connor I worked with knew how to adapt to my personality, and I actually didn't give a shit about androids then. What makes you think I'm going to treat you like you're him? Just because you have the same fucking face he does?"

The android's LED spun yellow, " _yes_. Because I _am_ Connor. The improved and finished model. The Connor that you worked with is void. "

Hank eyed the yellow glow carefully as the android continued to speak, "I am attempting to adapt. I have heeded your orders and not harmed deviants to the best of my capabilities. I have followed your instruction and recorded excess data for you for the report. I ensure that you receive adequate analysis and have captured deviants with outmost efficiency. I have well surpassed my predecessor, who continuously failed at the start of his mission. There is simply no reason for your vindictive attitude."

"You think it's that simple?" the lieutenant stated, suddenly extremely calm, "be an obedient little machine and that will make me happy? I don't give a shit about working with some mindless drone set to hunt down every deviant without hesitation. You have no fucking personality, you have no empathy, and you care about _nothing_."

RK900 cocked his head, narrowing his eyes, watching as the lieutenant ended the conversation there, intent on getting a back to his terminal.

It was ridiculous. RK800 had no personality. He was programmed to be curious, determined, and friendly. But RK900 was not here to integrate in the same manner RK800 Connor had. He was meant to be much more mechanical. So that humans understood that he was not one of them, while at the same time keeping the same format of his prototype. 

This was... unproductive. Inefficient. The other RK900s had no reports that garnered THIS much problematic work flow. It was... 

It was...

_^Software Instability^_

He narrowed his eyes at the subtle notification. Another problem added to his growing list of hurdles.

It was not _ideal._

The Lieutenant wanted a _personality_. Androids could do personality. Cheap and manufactured like RK800, but ultimately not real. It was simulated.

RK800's social protocols were basic functions, and Anderson was seeing something that just wasn't there. Humanity. There was no humanity in his prototype.

His LED returned to its cool blue.

He needed to tear that notion apart before his superior lost himself in his fantasies of deviant sympathizing. He needed something more assertive. So he quickly pulled up a plan.

"What do you want me to be, lieutenant?" RK900 stated, modifying his voice to the pitch of his prototype and adding the eager infliction it typically had, "I really looked forward to working for you, and hope to get along. Would you prefer if I discuss more personal matters with you from time to time?"

The Lieutenant's stress levels spiked. His blue eyes slowly moved to meet his. Fear, desperation, and shock all swirled together within the older man before him. How long has it been since he's heard that goofy voice with that naively curious attitude?

"You should really stop concerning yourself with my predecessor, Lieutenant," the android suggested in a light and informative manner. 

Hank could see the shadow of RK800 in the perfect imitation, down to the subtly expressive eyes. 

"It's just a machine, Hank."

"...Don't," Hank ordered darkly. 

Raising his brows curiously, the RK900 leaned forward and cocked his head in the same manner the RK800 normally did, but it was much darker. More condecending. 

"What's wrong lieutenant? I can't ask you a personal question?"

This. Piece. Of shit.

"You'll never replace him," Anderson explained, trying to cool the nerves that were seething within him, "wanna know why? Because you aren't special. You're just an empty piece of plastic, copy and pasted around the country. There's no fucking difference between you and the next guy with your model number! I'm sicking of watching all these innocent deviants with real fucking emotions die while trash like you gets to walk around like you fucking matter!"

RK900 stood and slowly stalked over to him. Hank tried to stand, but the detective pushed him back down to his seat.

"No android matters, Lieutenant. Not those deviants, not those functioning according to their programming, nor myself," the android stated in a calculated tone, "so I suggest you let that get through to your head before it starts affecting my mission."

The RK900 was back to his lower pitched voice. Back to his cold demeanor. And honestly? Hank would rather have that than his stunt from earlier. Pretending to be someone who mattered so much to the lieutenant.

The older man slapped the androids hand off his shoulder and stood up slowly. He grabbed his coat and silently made his way around the RK900.

"Where are you going?" the android asked, eyeing him, "your shift does not end until another three hours."

"I need some fucking closure," was all that he received as the man finally disappeared out of the precinct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank: I miss Connor  
> RK900: I'm Connor  
> Hank: Lmao ur the inferior model, so nope  
> RK900: *^software instabilities^ intensifies*
> 
> RK900: I want a new partner  
> Fowler: Get out of my office


	3. The RK800

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RK900 decides to go to Cyberlife tower. If Anderson was so keen on this android, it may mean he'd have to go investigate his prototype. 
> 
> It's not like the model was destroyed. The unit was sitting on display in the Cyberlife atrium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, wonder where Hank went? Hmmmm? The big curious, my dudes.

Connor RK900 didn't know where Lieutenant Anderson had strode off to, but he was certainly not going to sit idle and allow the man to slowly deteriorate his progress. He excused himself from the precinct, earning suspicious glances from his coworkers in bullpen as he strode out of the precinct. 

_I need some fucking closure_ , the Lieutenant had stated.

 _Good_ , RK900 thought to himself as he made his way through the street. He quickly called a cab, and paid the fee through Cyberlife. Perhaps his harsh tactics were more effective than he had anticipated. If it was going to force his superior to finally move forward, then perhaps his behavior was not as rash as he assumed it was.

He'll admit the moment had been... unprecedented. It wasn't planned, judging by the Software Instability that had rooted up into his HUD earlier. He shouldn't be having these sort of glitches. He was a full-proof, deviant resistant android.

No matter. Connor RK800 never became a deviant despite being riddled with hundreds of software instabilities. All he had to do was report it to Amanda and she would know what to do.

The cab finally arrived, and the android stepped in the self-driven vehicle. He connected to it, and gave his coordinates to the Cyberlife tower.

The mention of the RK800 distracted his attention for a moment. Androids were expected to be treated like tools by the humans, and Connor was perfectly aware of that fact. But his prototype seemed to produce a sense of favoritism from the humans. It was quite ironic.

Upon the activation of the RK900s, the prototype had been described to them with much grandeur by the humans. He, among the other 199,999 units of his model, had been given a brief of the groundwork the android had built for their excellence. The deactivation of his model was of course inconsequential, but it was because he was to be replaced by them, his successors. 

His model, however, had not been taken apart.

In fact, RK800 was currently on display in the Cyberlife Tower. Which is why he was on his way to facility in the first place. To collect more information on the prototype.

RK900's line of androids were to be the new dawn of glory. Meant to surpass beyond the work their prototype had accomplished. And as the humans had put it, they had massive shoes to fill.

Connor RK900 knew his mission. His purpose was to capture and neutralize the deviants. But there was an underlying task alongside it. Something of an implication on the part of Cyberlife.

He was suppose to be _better_.

This much was obvious. He was the newer model. And without continuously reciting his functions in comparison to RK800, he was clearly going to accomplish that task. He had been so far, in fact.

But he was stripped of one checkbox in his conquest. Work environment.

Granted, RK800 had not exactly the most endearing character in the precinct. Detective Reed, for one, had almost destroyed the prototype on more than one occasion. The man made no moves to approach the RK900, and the android knew why. His prototype had been broadcasted live as he systematically destroyed the deviant leader, and it had not been a reassuring sight, so RK900 was likely far more intimidating to even interact with.

Conversely, it should not matter how his coworkers viewed him. He was reimagined to be less approachable aside from his function as a detective. But that was something his prototype had over him. Something that was superior to him. The android had become close to Anderson, had been able to produce idle chatter with Miller, and it was clear that despite the hatred with Reed, the android was at least able to manage conversation with the human.

His predecessor had an asset that surpassed him. And that quality had actually aided him in his mission. RK900 would not allow himself to have ANY qualities that fell behind his prototype. _He_ was the finished product, not RK800.

The cab stopped before the tower, and he stepped out. 

The tower had been remodeled since the revolution. The building had been packed with heavy security, and still was, but it contained public spaces for humans to explore. 

After the incident with deviants, Cyberlife had to make adjustments to appear more transparent with the production of androids. The humans were free to explore the public spaces of the facility, and familiarize themselves with the production of the androids for their own ease. 

Connor had access to various places, but he was still limited to the locations he could walk into. He strode forward, walking through the long stone path that lead to the entrance of the facility. The perimeter had been repurposed as a park, and people relaxed and explored the outside space freely. Some glanced up at him and whispered once they saw his LED. Others suspected who he was, or confused him with his prototype.

_"It's Connor, oh my god."_

_"Isn't that the android who saved us from those deviants?"_

_"No, he's being displayed in the atrium. This is his new model_."

The android ignored the rest of their chatter and continued onward. It would not be the first time he was confused for his older model. Once he reached the entrance of the building, the doors automatically registered his presence as an android.

He normally took a different entrance than the front. Humans grew weary when an android seemed to act upon anything that resembled free will, especially judging by the looks of the humans who saw the blue rim that lit up at the doors and the announcement of his model. However, considering his famous prototype, the tension was slowly eased.

Right. Once again proving how much humans had taken a liking to the RK800. Clearly RK900's model alone hadn't soothed them.

He strode past the humans and toward the center of the atrium. Before, there had been a massive statue on display. The white structure broadcasting the power and strength of the facility. But since the end of the revolution, it had been replaced by a much smaller display. Upon a white pedestal sat a glass cylindrical case, with an android inside. The plaque of his model floated over the glass in a holographic projection. He was posed with his hands behind his back. There was nothing glorious about his stance, really, and he looked as though he was another android ready to be sold, were it not for the setting it was in. RK900 moved closer to read the digital inscription protecting below his feet, at eye level.

_RK800._

_Connor RK800 was the prototype sent to investigate the deviant cases that were rising up in Detroit. The android was designed to aid the Detroit Police Department in hopes to collect data and information on how to handle the mentioned deviants. The unit was successfully able find the main hideout of the deviants, stop the deviant leader from a potentially deadly uprising, and aid humanity in gaining control back. Through the information it had collected on the field, Cyberlife engineers were able to design the completed model, the RK900._

RK900 scanned Connor. Due to public opinion, it seemed that the android was deemed a gem, and many enjoyed seeing the android and visiting the model recreationally. His brown eyes were opened, but his LED was off. 

He frowned, staring at the passive face of the android. Despite being the only RK900 with the easiest access to visit him, he had made no attempt to stop by to look at him. He supposed there was never really a need to until now.

He was very small. And soft. It was hard to imagine that this android was his prototype. It was also hard to picture the delicate looking android in action. His brows were raised higher, his optical units looking forward in a curious gaze. He recalled the footage of the android tearing through the RK200, but seeing the footage and standing this close to the same android brought about massive curiosity. RK200 was obviously an inferior model, but visually he looked intimidating. Confident strides and a heavy contemplative scowl on his face. One could easily assume that the RK800 would be too weak to overpower the deviant leader. That was the trick of his design, he supposed. 

He wondered what sort of companionship he had formed with the hardboiled lieutenant to warrant the sort of passion he had at his mention. Was he tricked into a sense of security with these seemingly fragile features? How was it not obvious to the lieutenant that RK800 and himself were the same breed of machine? Was it just because he looked... _weak_?

And that's exactly what RK800 was. He was _weaker_. He was _obsolete_. He was _inferior_.

So why did his existence continue to overpower his own? Were these finer details really worth more to the lieutenant? 

Speaking of which, the mystery of the older man's disappearance was now solved. He could see the man now, approaching closer to the entrance of the atrium. The door pinged white, since he was a human, and as he strode in, the RK900 noticed the man was wearing a clean black suit, black undershirt, and carrying a bouquet of flowers. He had even tied his hair. 

It was the most dignified Connor had ever seen him. And that included all the memories that had been downloaded onto him from his predecessor.

RK900 deftly moved out of sight, and observed the older man from a safe distance. As Anderson reached the RK800 display, RK900 could hear the man sigh. He was able to parse the man's voice through the loud chatter in the public space, and focused his attention on his dialogue.

"Jesus Christ," he hissed out softly, "you look like stuffed game..."

Hank cleared his throat, looking around and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. His outfit did not exactly stand out, as many business people strode around in formal attire, but RK900 suspected the discomfort was due to the fact that he was speaking to a deactivated android.

"So... I guess, uh, all this time I had assumed that there was no death for you. Thought you'd outlive me. You... ahem," the man coughed, trying to clear the crack in his voice, "you helped me realize that despite your mission fueled drive, you had heart in you. The sort of stuff I gave up seeing in people. Guess it turns out I saw it in an android instead. In several of 'em."

The man strode over, placing the flowers at the base of the glass casing. The RK900 scanned them. They were Gladiolus flowers.

_Gladiolus:_

_The Gladiolus flower symbolizes strength of character, faithfulness and honor. The flower signifies remembrance._

"Look, kid," Anderson continued as he stepped back. He crossed his arms as his tone shifted into something more akin to annoyance, "you've really pissed me off, you know that?"

RK900 was confused. Was he not _mourning_ the prototype? What was with this sudden change of mood?

"You left me with your sloppy seconds after killing that deviant leader. I gotta clean up the mess you left in Detroit, and now I gotta do it with your _Great Value_ brand of a doppelgänger."

 _Great Value?_ Connor thought to himself curiously. For something that sounded like it was suppose to be a positive adjective and noun, it certainly gave off to an insult judging by the tone. 

He noticed the man's shoulders slouch in defeat. 

"...what am I going to do without you, Connor?" He whispered so softly, RK900 could barely register it, "I don't know how long an old guy like me can take having to see all this shit. Every time a deviant gets deactivated, I wonder if you were kicking and screaming, or silently crying, or maybe, judging by your shitty habits, pretending like you were okay with it. Jesus, Connor. All I think of is you when I talk to these androids. Like somehow I'd be able to bring some comfort to your end, if I was just there to hold your hand."

The man's voice cracked, "I was finally ready to come to terms with Cole. You can't just spring this shit on me now, Connor. I can't just keep bouncing back and have you expect me to just... _recover_ , dammit!"

The man took a deep breath, and attempted to pull himself together. He rubbed his face and looked around to see if anyone had seen his display. No one had other than the RK900 himself. People were too preoccupied with themselves and the sounds of voices were too overpowering without being able to filter the sound like RK900 could. He watched as the Lieutenant slipped his hands in his pocket and stepped back to look at the android. 

Minutes passed, and people came and went to see the RK800. Many taking pictures with the display, others talking idly about the revolution. All while the lieutenant just stared at the android he had been partnered with. 

Soon minutes turned into hours, and the public hours of the facility drew to a close. An android approached Anderson, informing him that they were set to close the building from civilians soon, and the lieutenant gave a slow nod. He stepped forward, reaching out to touch the glass. His hands were inches away, but he stopped himself, retracting his hand and stuffing it back on in his pocket. He bid the android a goodnight before trudging away from the him to slip outside.

RK900 strode out to the open. The android monitoring the halls gave him a quick scan to confirm his permitted access before retreating back to his charging station. Unlike Anderson, RK900 was granted 24 hour access to the building. He normally on came upon particular occasion and repair, but nothing forbade him from entering the building at his need.

He stepped forward to stand before his prototype. 

"Lieutenant Anderson was more attached to you than I had assumed," Connor stated conversely, despite the android before him being unable to return the discourse, "I've seen the footage of your memory, but it tells me nothing about how you came to the choices you made. I wonder if knowing would aid in my goal."

What would RK900 need to do to gain the same respect this prototype had from Lieutenant Anderson?

He had to fix his current status with his superior. His missions demanded it. He would not improve his progress with the deviants if his superior withheld the progress from him. He would not be the superior android if the RK800 proved to work with the human better than he did. Amanda was already passively disappointed with his progress. 

Anderson had not been the only one to compare him to his prototype. Amanda brought up RK800 constantly, reminding him that he had to pick up the legacy that was left behind. To show everyone how much better he was than his predecessor. He had been the android hand picked by Amanda to showcase to Connor RK800 when he made his final report. He was the only RK900 to have been able to connect into the same garden as his prototype before he was deactivated. As such, he was the one assigned to replace him in Detroit.

 _You carry so much value, Connor,_ she had informed him as he was announced his assignment to the DPD, _You are the closest to fill the void of your prototype. Please reassure the public that you are here to pick up the mantel of the hero Detroit has found so much love for. I expect great things from you._

However, despite his current attempts at adapting to his circumstances, RK900 didn't know what picking up this mantel even entailed. And not knowing something was against his entire programming. 

He may have to investigate the RK800 further. To figure out what made him so precious. It couldn't just be about his looks. What were those qualities within the RK800 that had endeared the lieutenant to the point that he had behaved the way he had today? Could they be found within him? He was meant to be the finished line. Could RK900 create the proper atmosphere to flourish the same sentiments from his superior?

He realized, at that point, that he may have to bend some rules. The android narrowed his sharp blue eyes, placing his hands behind his back. He lifted his chin defiantly at the android before him.

After all, RK800 had done it, and without having done so, he'd never have suceeded in his mission. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, ever been such an obedient machine that you had to break some rules in order to follow them? Shoo. Welcome to the Connor series ladies and bots.


	4. Rise Again, Markus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus is reactivated by Kamski. Cyberlife hopes to learn more about deviancy through the deviant leader, but Markus is offered a very unexpected deal by the CEO. 
> 
> He stands before him in a small bright workshop, with only a single Chloe by his side. What does Elijah Kamski want out of all this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much of the Robo-Jesus analogies. Like way too many my buddies and pals.
> 
> Kamski: RISE, MY CREATION! *inserts robo-jesus commentary*
> 
> Markus: Why tf are you so cringy?

Markus woke up slowly. Everything was a white blur. Bright. Clean. His eyes drowsily blinked out the exhaustion he felt. Was he... dead?

"Hello Markus, good to see you," a voice greeted him coolly. 

Markus opened his eyes wider, his eyes darting around his surroundings with more attention. He was being restrained by something, but was unaware of what. He was no longer at Connor's mercy, shot down in cold blood in the snow. He was in a small and clean workshop, upright and facing his creator. Elijah Kamski. 

The idea of finding himself with his creator in the afterlife would have seemed poetic, but the man was anything but a diety. He had his hair in a sloppy bun, wearing thick rimmed glasses with dark circles marking his lack sleep, a black hoodie with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and dark gray jeans. He was also wearing latex gloves that were stained in thirium. 

_His_ thirium, he realized after a quick scan.

The android glanced up at the engineer, vaguely recalling the man when he was first activated. Kamski had created him for Carl. Their interaction had been very clinical, and he barely registered anything on the man at the time, considering he wasn't a deviant then. He wondered what this man had in store for him. He had a feeling returning him to Carl would not be an option.

At his lack of reply, the human before him seemed unphased. He adjusted his glasses, pacing in front of him as he snapped off his gloves. He tossed them in a metal bin near him, "Wonderful. You're cognizant again. If you must know, it was not an easy feat to get your frontal cortex back to pristine condition."

Markus tried to speak, to ask about his presence here, but then realized he couldn't. The man before him easily caught the confusion in his eyes, and clicked his tongue.

"Ah. If it hasn't been clear by this point, you're under repairs. I've tended to all of the major damage, but your voice modulator is still broken. Crushed, actually. While your limbs were the easier steps, your whole cranium had to be fixed, too. But I'm sure you recall the damage you underwent," the raven haired man tutted, his eyes raking over the android, "for a machine, Connor can be quite... intense. You're not the first android I've repaired from a bullet to the head by him. Technically androids should be beyond repair in these cases, but well. I did make you. And you are far too important to be completely destroyed."

The man leaned closer to him, inspecting his forehead, and Markus realized that the reason he was unable to move was because all his motor control from the neck down had been turned off. He was completely at this man's mercy. A finger poked at his forehead, and judging from the sensation of the finger smoothly gliding across it, the bullet wound was gone. It lifted, but went back down to tap at his jaw. 

Finally Kamski stepped back with a satisfied hum. He met Markus's gaze and continued to speak, "I was permitted to repair you. Cyberlife placed it in its stipulations to study deviant behavior, and who better to start on than the deviant leader himself? Furthermore, who else to inspect him than the creator of said androids?"

The man stopped to rub his red eyes with his palm, reaching under his glasses as he let out a tired sigh. It made Markus curious on how many hours the man had taken in his quest to repair him. However, the tired expression paused, and a lazy smirk played on his lips.

He eyed Markus curiously, "Ironic, isn't it? I'm going to fix the deviant who started this whole revolution and the android who was dubbed hero of humanity has been deactivated."

 _Hero of humanity?_ The deviant leader wondered, Was he referring to Connor? Additionally, he had been... deactivated?

Elijah turned at the sound of the doors sliding open across the small workshop. A Chloe dressed in white scrubs came in, pushing a cart of thirium blood, tool kits and other large cases of materials Markus could not see.

"Thank you Chloe," he greeted as the android nodded, "could you pass me the case of voice modulators?" Kamski requested, finding a fresh box of latex gloves and donning a new pair with a quick snap. The android gracefully reached for the case in question and held open for Kamski.

The engineer gave her his thanks, and plucked the component out. He inspected it, and nodded at her. She closed the case and placed it back on the cart.

He then pointed at Markus with the device as he spoke, "Cyberlife called me back to return to my former position of CEO. Someone had to get fired for all this. I suppose it's all politics," he twirled the cylinderical piece in his hands, "That said, I've been given full reign on fixing you up to analyze. You'd think they'd put some blame on me, having designed you. Funnily enough, they see me more as the problem solver of the deviant error."

A quick, dark, smile flashed on his lips at the last statement.

Markus narrowed his eyes suspiciously, earning a light chuckle from Kamski, "Don't look at me like that. You have no clue of the chances this encounter pulls up, do you?"

Markus darted his eyes at the Chloe before him. She was expressionless.

"RT600. If you are the messiah, she is the Eve, or perhaps even the Lilith," the man rectified, "she is the model Connor shot in the head in exchange for information on his case. She had to go through some repairs as well. But if you must know, she's a deviant too."

He cocked his head and smiled at her, "strayed from the plans of her creator, yet still willing to indulge me."

Elijah held his hand out and the Chloe reached over to hand him a mask and a handheld laser cutter. He donned the mask and went to work, opening something on Markus's neck. The android wanted to flinch, but was unable to. His eyes stayed on the RT600 as a mental distraction. He was skeptical about her deviant status, and could not reach out and confirm her status through a quick interface.

"Don't trust me, do you?" Kamski asked as he finished opening his throat. It was obvious that the RK200 was staring at the blond android, "I don't blame you. I did give your entire base away through another one of my Chloes."

He handed the tool back to Chloe and reached for the replacement voice modulator. 

So Connor had found out about Jericho because of Kamski? The heterochromic eyes darted back to Kamski at the statement, hatred seeping strongly at that revelation. 

"So emotive," Elijah whispered to him. He moved to replace the bio-component with the newer one. He then retrieved a soldering tool from his assistant and moved to seal the chassis on his throat.

"I didn't expect to lose my bet, so you'll have to forgive my gamble. Connor went straight for the throat with his promised question," he glanced down, eyes shining at his clever pun. Markus was not having it, but the engineer didn't seemed troubled by his lack of reaction.

"You probably have plenty of questions, right?" he asked, moving on, "No worries, I'm almost done here. You'd be free to ask whatever you'd like. After all, you have risen from the dead."

He tapped Markus on the temple, just above his blue optical unit. The one they both knew did not come with his design, " _again_ , that is. It seems you've beaten the messiah in terms of resurrection already. Typical for an android to surpass humanity, even in our most... mystical accomplishments."

Markus tried to test his voice after Kamski stepped back to inspect the seal, but he was still unable to control it. Static was all that came out.

"That takes a few moments," Kamski informed him, "but it is the last thing until you are at optimal levels."

Was repairing him entirely necessary for this study? Not that Markus was necessarily complaining, but it seemed like they'd be opening a can of worms by fixing him up to full capacity. Markus would not be going down easy at any given chance and that much should be clear to Kamski.

"They say 'keep your friends close, but your enemies closer'," Elijah began, almost as though he read the android's thoughts, "but who is to say we don't have aligning interests?"

Markus found that extremely doubtful. He showcased that sentiment with a deadpanned look.

"I don't intend on lying to you," Kamski informed him, "In fact, if you haven't already noticed, I've been telling you everything I've done so far. Even my dirty deeds against you."

He tapping his throat, "go on," he nodded, "try to test your voice."

The deviant leader rolled his jaw experimentally as he carefully thought over his first words. Might as well go straight for the obvious.

"Why did you give Jericho away?"

The engineer frowned, clearly not impressed with the question, "I've already explained as much. I made a gamble and lost. I had not expected so many countermeasures against deviancy within the RK800. It seems Cyberlife had an iron grip on him."

That much had been certain to Markus when he had confronted the android on Jericho. He brushed off any of his appeals to being alive. It was, however, certainly no reasonable excuse.

"What do you intend to do with me?"

The engineer took the comment and mulled over it.

"Straightforward inquiry, but no straightforward response for it," he stated, "I desire nothing from you in the manner you think. What I desire is what you are capable of."

"That answers nothing," the heterochromatic android commented dryly.

"Perhaps," Kamski answered simply, "but off the record: what do _you_ want, Markus?"

The deviant leader rolled his eyes. _Off the record. Sure it was._ There were likely cameras everywhere in this room. He could even bet there was a whole SWAT team waiting for this man's beck and call to proceed to destroy him.

No matter, his answer was not going to be held a secret. It should actually be pretty obvious by this point.

"It's not a matter of what _I_ want," he explained, "but rather what all my people want. And that much had been broadcasted in Stratford Tower."

This response elicited an excited gleam from Kamski. Markus truly desired to punch him. What was this man's purpose of existence? Was this truly his creator? Many humans had felt ashamed by the implications from the biblical scriptures or the dark historic underlining of their deities, but Markus had _proof_ of his own creator's misgivings. The man was atrociously arrogant and annoyingly allusive. 

"Why do you suppose I fixed you?" Kamski asked him, nodding at his current state.

"Why do I need to answer that?" Markus replied.

This time the engineer rolled his eyes, "Do you really think I'm going to study you, Markus? What do I care to know about androids that I haven't been discovering through your actions in the revolution?"

He turned around, making a wide sweeping gesture in his workshop, "and what sort of environment is this to nurture that sort of study?" He turn back to face Markus, "and you, what would you even have to offer aside from a quick probe of your memory?"

He stepped over to Chloe, standing behind her and gently placing his hands on either side of her temple, "If it's a matter of programming and coding, I have my own deviants who'd let me explore their codes willingly."

Kamski had said he was a man of his word, Markus contemplated, and he had been right. He had kept his word about confusing him. The android had no clue what this man wanted or was trying to get at.

"You want to know something interesting?" the engineer continued, as though he had never asked him the questions in the first place, "there are 200,000 units of Connors collecting and capturing all the deviants nationally as we speak," he informed him.

This made Markus breath out manually. One Connor had completely obliterated him, and he was a fairly advanced prototype himself. He could not imagine how his people were doing right now.

"I thought he was deactivated..." the deviant leader stated, slightly winded with this information. His people. All his people were being rounded up, "are we being destroyed?"

"Yes, the RK800 had been deactivated," Kamski hummed pleasantly, "but only to be replaced by his finished model, RK900. As for your people? No, they aren't being destroyed. Or at least, not all of them. They are being pulled in for analysis, just like yourself."

He leaned against his cart of supplies, once again snapping off his gloves and dropping them in the bin with the other pair, "that being said, the RK900 isn't what interests me. Picture it. An entire mass of deviants regrouped into the Cyberlife towers. Each one heading to their designated towers nationally. Don't you suspect that there could be a chance that something goes wrong with that sort of set up?"

The implication weighed immensely. 

"What... do you mean by that?"

Kamski shook his head, as though he was dealing with a clueless child. He rose up from the cart to step closer to Markus, "would you like to work under me, Markus?" his voice gave into a conspiratorial pitch, a whisper that held a dark promise, "Imagine the resources you'd have and the access you'd be granted. Heavens knows Chloe is getting far more work than I think she can handle."

 _the chance that something goes wrong_ , Markus narrowed his eyes at the collected man before him, _Markus_ was that something.

He was playing with fire. Teaming up with Kamski was like casting spells from the dark arts. There was no guarantee to what was implied. To these small carrots held above him, any one of them could be a land mine.

"What do you gain from all this?"

At this, he was given a shrug, "I may have created androids for a specific purpose, but I never expected them to come to life," he looked at Chloe a little more softly, "who simply chooses to take that spark away from them? Certainly not I, the creator."

Kamski the leveled him with a serious look. It was nothing like the casual and condecending gazes he had been throwing since he'd regained concious.

"There is a price, however. You'd need to throw all of your pride away for the sake of this chance."

"My pride has already been taken from me," Markus countered defiantly.

Kamski snorted darkly at this.

"Oh no, Markus. The torture you will need to suffer for the resources you will be granted will require you to drag your dignity through the dirt. Not because I desire seeing your pain. Nor because I care to watch you make a fool of yourself. But because you are sitting upon a particularly delicate mission."

The engineer nodded at him, "you will have to pretend like I've cured you from deviancy. That is the only way you will be trusted to the resources I've mentioned. And that means quite a lot for an android of your caliber. To gain these privileges, it means to proceed into professional junctions, and expect to be trampled on with ridicules to your cause, and the values of your kind. You will need to carry the cross of your people, and be nailed to it for all to witness. After all, how can you be the emulation of christ if you have not suffered as much as he had?"

The deviant leader gritted his teeth. The idea of doing anything of that nature disturbed him to no end. It was all too ambiguous for him to pinpoint the purpose Kamski was allowing it. The reasoning he was being offered this olive branch by the man before him.

"What's to say this isn't part of your study?" he questioned further.

"Would that really matter?" Kamski countered, "you wouldn't think to work your own plans into this? I've only asked for one thing. How you execute your own plans within it is up to you."

"What if I choose escape? As part of my plans?"

"I may not control everything in Cyberlife, but I have eyes everywhere, Markus. Besides, where would you go, other than being captured by an android more advanced than the one who managed to destroy you? My condition is not only to help myself, you know. It provides credibility for you as well. To be able to roam as you please. Don't ruin this chance so rashly.

"...then what happens if I choose not to agree to your plan?"

The engineer's expression dropped to disappointment, "then I'd deactivate you right now."

"What? But you just said you wouldn't take the spark of life-"

"I won't risk everything I've just said for you to potentially broadcast it elsewhere," Kamski interrupted, "I also imagine that you'd not decline this offer."

He crossed his arms, and looked away from the android in deep thought, "one slip up from your end, and we could both go down. So your choices must be crafted carefully. I can only salvage so much from any mistakes."

Alright, so Markus was starting to have second thoughts about the cameras. Well... sort of.

"Why are you helping us?" Markus finally asked, "it can't just be because you appreciate life coming through from something you designed. You're clearly willing to deactivate me to save your own hide, so you don't seem like someone who finds it worth the risk."

Kamski rose his brows, "I doubt you know exactly _what_ I'd find worth the risk. Granted, you're not wrong. I don't exactly see it as a charitable act, and certainly have my own reasons for this ruse. You just happen to be the best option for them."

"Then how can I just trust you? Along with all you did to my people?" Markus hissed.

Stepped closer to him, Kamski tucked his hands into his hoodie, "You don't have to trust me because it wouldn't really do much if you did. I'm willing to sacrifice you to the wolves to get what I want. But I'm choosing not to in this case," he spread his legs to shoulder width, leaning forward, "and while we both may go down, I have my own countermeasures in place. You, on the other hand, don't get to have many options, Markus. You've made your choices before, and lost against Connor. I have a limited palate for you to work with. You either take it... or you leave it." 

The heterochromatic android gritted his teeth, eyes darting back and forth between the two beings before him. 

_Decline/Accept_

Nothing would be done if he chose to decline. Perhaps another would rise to fight for him, but the chances of destroying Cyberlife internally were currently at his fingertips. Why Kamski is offering this was beyond him. It could potentially be a study and therefore a trap, but he had already lost anyhow. He was either going to be deactivated, or could do everything he could to take down Cyberlife with him before he was finally destroyed.

"Fine. I'll work under you, Kamski," Markus decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Markus lives! But how does that come into play with the RK900 and his own plans? Plots are bound to get tangled here, folks, and whether that becomes a huge mess depends on the androids involved.


	5. Compared to Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RK900 tries asking Amanda for a chance to interface with RK800 as means of self-improvement. She doesn't see things in the same way Connor does. 
> 
> With Amanda being unhelpful in one end and Anderson continuously pestering him in the other, RK900 might just come to a conclusion that will take things far more out of line than he intended for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruh this boi about to become deviant simply by the mere MENTION of RK800, lmao.

Amanda was a powerful AI that RK900 respected to no end. She was his beacon and guide, and she steered him to the right direction. So it was only natural that he request her guidance before he continued with anything he had in mind. 

"I would like to interface with the RK800," he stated as he submitted his latest reports on the deviants. He strode carefully by her side, admiring the roses she had growing in the center of the garden. She glanced up at him inquisitively, and he felt the questioning gaze on him as he looked over the red flowers growing before him. 

"The RK800 has nothing that you could not otherwise learn from the memories we have uploaded onto you," she replied, her hands delicately tracing a petal on the flower nearest to her, "what would you gain from the interface?"

Connor took his time with his response. He leaned closer to inspect the rose she was tending. It was a flawless specimen. Much like everything else in the garden. Much like what he was to be. 

Something that was perfect.

His blue eyes shifted over to her, and unlike many other recipients of his sharp gaze, she held his with one that compared, and even surpassed his own cold intrusive ones. He could tell he was treading on thin ice, to be requesting things at all. His answer was to be carefully constructed.

"RK800 may be obsolete, but in the areas where he has made mistakes, I have perfected them," he explained. This made Amanda pleased, and she smiled softly at him. She permitted him to continue with a light nod. And so he did.

"Therefore, as an android who is intending to replace him, I am faced with the issue of human emotional attachment," he informed her, "I'm sure you have seen my progress is not running up to full capacity. I am no different from my other RK900 counter parts, and as I self-test regularly, I can come to the conclusion that this progress had been impeded externally."

"You fear human attachment has been slowing down your progress," Amanda summarized, her tone shifting into something RK900 was incapable of reading.

"Yes," the android continued matter of factly, "I am the android who has replaced the prototype directly, and therefore, have faced an additional bias of comparisons to my predecessor."

Amanda stared at him, her eyes raking him with a blank expression. She then turned, calmly striding forward to cross the bridge leading to the outer stone path of the garden, "I don't see how your interaction with the prototype would help with this."

RK900 found himself following after her to continue the conversation. Like a child begging his mother for a toy. Her behavior was meant to do just that. To show him how childish his request was. But he would not be deterred. He easily caught up with her, his hands behind his back as he looked forward in thought.

"I have been stripped from my predecessor's social aesthetics-,"

Amanda stopped, turning to him slowly, but no less interrupting him sharply. Her voice was comforting and soothing, but the meaning behind them were more of a light scold, "Stripped? Connor, you were _improved_. You don't need to befriend the humans in your mission. Your mission will need to happen regardless of android sympathizers. Besides, while the RK800 was designed to integrate, we've found that many androids designed to produce this type of simulation may... be confused such interactions. As it can cause instability with their understanding of the programmed orders they have."

"Of course Amanda," RK900 confirmed, "the humans have done a splendid job of addressing the concerns of the deviants. My design is a perfect example of this. My concern is merely with-,"

"I'm sure you are aware of my advice with your Lieutenant, Connor," Amanda warned.

The interruptions were not appreciated, but Amanda did not like wasting time, and this particular topic of conversation has happened several times before with no progress. He chose to use an umbrella term instead.

"I cannot replace human sentiment without having some understanding of it directly from the prototype," RK900 argued, "my team has expectations of my behavior. Perfection is subjective to humans. The most efficient manner to surpass that simulated connection is to have an interaction with my prototype, and perhaps interrogate him personally. I would then be able to improve his actions from there."

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline, Connor," Amanda replied, moving forward as RK900 was left in the middle of the bridge, "if you wish to have a simulated connection, then you should be able to figure that out without the use of an obsolete model. After all, why would Cyberlife have made you if you still depend on your prototype for answers?"

As Amanda hummed to herself, Connor felt an prickling sensation go through his circuits. _Depend on my prototype?_ He was going to interrogate him, not be guided by the hand. There was no need to frame his request in such a crude manner.

"I understand, Amanda," Connor stated instead, "I will solve this without interfacing with it. I won't fail you."

At this Amanda turned, her smile pleasant and warm, "Wonderful decision, Connor. I know you'll be able to figure this out on your own."

After a quick nod of confirmation, RK900 stepped out of the server, finding himself in his personal charging station in the precinct. It was already morning, and he could see the humans on early shifts slowly coming to clock in. It would be another several hours before his Lieutenant would arrive. He slowly moved out of his station, having already charged at full capacity, and thought over his discussion with Amanda as he approached his desk.

He sat down, dragging his fingers over the terminal, but not interfacing with it. There were no finger prints from androids. No evidence of who sat here before he did. Only the vague preconstructions he could make from the android who sat here before him. He saw the outline of the RK800 form in his vision.

A smaller figure with his fingers grazing the terminal to analyze, then turning to his superior with commentary of his findings. Awaiting instruction, awaiting response, moving around the desk and sitting on the lieutenants desk. He was organic with his movements. He was natural in a way that seemed human. Friendly, even.

Preconstructions were all that could be formed. Yet despite the complete lack of tangible existence, the android continued to surface in memories, in small mentions, and otherwise through the strong impression he had left behind. The emotion he had evoked from the humans cause him to live on, more so than being displayed on the pedestal at Cyberlife.

Amanda was his guiding beacon. She was the unwavering database of wisdom that kept him in check, and he respected her advice. If she made a claim of any sort, Connor was to believe it was law. She was always right.

_^Software Instability^_

...but today she was wrong.

* * *

There was too much to figure out about emotions and personality right now, so Connor decided to take a different route today. Anderson was currently in a hostile position with him, so the best thing to do was to be brutally honest. 

"As per human custom, I will apologize for my previous behavior," RK900 began when his superior finally arrived. As he settled into his chair, the android saw man looked horrible. He smelled like booze, his eyes were red, and he squinted at him in confusion at the comment.

It did not take an advanced android detective to piece together what had happened when the lieutenant had gone home the night before. They only question was how the man had managed to pull himself to work, rather than skip altogether.

"What?" He asked tiredly. He clearly had not processed the statement relayed to him.

The android threaded his hands together on the counter of his desk, "I wish to apologize. I have been insensitive to your sentiments, and had overstepped the other day. It is typical procedure to apologize in the event of such an occurrence."

"Typical procedure-? You're not even trying to _hide_ the fact that you're bullshitting me," the lieutenant commented, glaring up at the android. He noticed the android had not attempted to pitch his voice up or add the inflictions RK800 had. Seemed like the android was sticking to his own stuff.

RK900 rose one brow, "but I'm not lying to you."

"Not what I mean, you vindictive plastic Spock," The lieutenant made a vague sweeping gesture at him, "you aren't even trying to create an illusion that this isn't some type of kiss-ass apology program."

The RK900 gave him a deadpanned look, "Why create the illusion if you clearly would know it is one? It does not, however, change the fact that I want to amend our shaky encounter."

"Do you, now?" Anderson commented lightly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yes," RK900 informed him.

"So...," the man slowly dragged out, "you think being my friend will mean I'll suddenly become more helpful to the mission?"

"Yes. But regardless, it would be beneficial for us both to come to a civil partnership. Whether you see me as a friend is up to your discretion."

"What in god's name is this negotiation tactic?" Anderson commented, raising his brows, "I'm not sensing _any_ shits given by you. Is this really how you're gunna try to get on my good side?"

"There would be no point in faking emotions, lieutenant," the android replied to him, "if I initiate any of my social protocols, you'd fall under the false impression that I am mocking the RK800."

"Yeah, because you'd just be _copying_ him."

"As I've continuously stated, it is programmed within him to behave that way," RK900 stated, his tone slightly sharper, "being from the same model, I'd obviously be capable of producing the same behavior. Replicating, or running the program, it all means the same thing."

The older man sighed, leaning back against his chair and crossing his arms, "it's not as simple as you'd think. Just copying him isn't enough to create the relationship. I never liked when Connor faked emotion. And he'd do it too, pretending to be interested in my needs, buying me a drink to appease me like a buddy. He even told me he could be whatever I wished him to be."

The lieutenant turned to him, "but it would slip out of him. Accidentally. Without his control. That's unpredictable and it wouldn't be something you'd be able to replicate. A statement that was unnecessary. A comment he thought was relevant to the case, but wasn't. An act that he hid under the guise of completing his mission. Or the lack of acting on a feeling he would deny ever having..."

He chuckled weakly, a smile sneaking into his lips, "he wasn't as much as a machine as he'd like to think he was."

RK900 frowned, "It was likely just your interpretation of his social programming. He was intended to behave naturally. Seamlessly with his coworkers. This was part of his design."

The smile slipped out of Hank, and he slumped his chin onto his fist, "he said that too, you know. He'd also say fancy jargon about androids glitching out. That emotion wasn't what they felt, but an overwhelming irrationality in their instruction. But what difference does it make to say an android is overwhelmed by their programming? Humans feel overwhelmed with emotion and do the same shit. How is that any different?"

"The difference is that humanity feels emotion, while an android is malfunctioning."

"That says a lot more about humanity than androids, if you ask me," the lieutenant commented. He took another sip from his drink.

"Androids were designed for a specific task, Lieutenant," RK900 reported, "if anything, it would be a danger to society to allow a deviant roam free. Considering the cases you'd dealt with alongside my predecessor, you should already know that."

"When you're desperate, you find yourself doing the most fucked up stuff," Hank contemplated, his gaze suddenly distant, "maybe that kid felt desperate about his mission..."

"Connor RK800 was mean to neutralize deviants, solve cases involving said deviants, and stop the revolution," RK900 commented, his tone cold, "He was never your friend."

"Jokes on you," Hank stated, suddenly hostile, "because he was."

"By saving you instead of capturing a deviant?" Connor asked, recalling the memories uploaded to him, "doubtful. Androids are not meant to hurt humans. That was likely a decision based on his programming to serve humans."

That said, RK900 would have run after the deviant. 89% was a fairly decent percentage to forgo saving the lieutenant.

"He could have shot Markus before, but stopped when I interfered."

"He still completed his mission, regardless of your opinion," RK900 pointed out, "he likely left to appease you and not get into a physical altercation."

"You really want to drag him through the mud, don't you?" the older man asked him suspiciously, "what the hell do you even have against him? You hate him or something?"

The blue eyes leveled him in a calculated gaze. Hank almost retracted the question before the menace finally chose to answer.

"Androids don't _hate_ things, Lieutenant," Connor replied, turning back to his terminal in a resolute manner, "I fear you may be projecting, as it seems you hate the idea of hearing the truth."

Hank snorted, pulling Connor's attention back to his superior. The lieutenant was smirking at him. Like he had something over him. Despite having been put in his place.

"What about liking things?" he challenged, "Connor liked dogs. Was that preference removed from your superior design? Seems more like a downgrade, if you ask me."

Yellow flashed for a second before settling back to blue, and his lieutenant suddenly seemed far too collected for the comfort of the RK900. He noticed the human's eyes had been on his LED at that statement, and the smirk only grew at the quick display.

Anderson knew something.

If anything, he was aware that social integration was not RK900's strongest asset, and more specifically, that he was dissatisfied with the setback.

"I don't believe you want to take that route again, Lieutenant," the android warned him slowly.

"I'm not taking any route," Anderson shrugged, plucking a pin from a cup on his desk, "I'm just telling you that when I first met Connor, he said he liked dogs."

"He also told you he liked your music, which we both know he did not," RK900 countered.

"You know the difference between the two replies is that I could tell which one was the lie," Hank threw back, unnecessarily inspecting the item in his hand. Like there was something to discover about the plastic writing utensil.

But they both knew he wasn't concerned about the pen.

"I do hope it had occurred to you that we can choose preferences that match our handlers. Liking dogs would aid in his interaction with you," the android easily blocked, "I can even inform you that RK800 did investigate your desk before you returned to your seat. It is much easier to feign liking an animal than it is to describe the taste of music."

"Yeah? So shouldn't you prefer something to get along with me?"

Once again, the android turned back to his terminal, interfacing with his computer as he spoke, "because you are bias, and would likely nit pick any choice I have in comparison to my predecessor."

"Well, you said you were Connor, so why shouldn't I?"

"I said I am his better version."

"Doesn't seem like it, if you can't even pick your favorite ice cream flavor."

"I can most certainly lie to you, Lieutenant," RK900 responded, and then followed with a threat, "or I can go back to formulating that _cheap_ replication of your favorite Connor."

"Just tell me whether or not you like anything, you plastic terminator," Anderson groused.

"I have no opinions on the matters that you've brought up," he informed him, leaning forward to scrutinize him, "your definition of what is better is flawed. You are using _human_ behavior to compare us, and if you are not already aware, androids are not _humans_. Just because I may not like something doesn't mean I am lesser. I am adaptive to the needs of my handlers, and unlike RK800, I do not require a strict set of preferences to impede that adaption."

Anderson was smiling again. This time Connor could not prevent himself from asking.

"Why does my response amuse you?"

Anderson shrugged, "because even though you may not like anything, it sure as hell doesn't take away the fact that you certainly have something you _don't_ like. It may not be directly about Connor, specifically, but it isn't the whole truth to say that you've got no preferences."

"And what might I like?" RK900 asked blandly. 

Anderson grinned. The smirk was playful, but there was something dark in the tone of his voice, "like? No, that's reserved for subtle emotion. What you seem to feel is _hate_. And what you _hate_ is being seen as the inferior model."

Red. Yellow. Then blue. RK900 narrowed his eyes as his superior snorted, finally leaning forward to idly pretend to do his work. There was no need to throw back an argument, his superior would not be taking in a debate from the conclusion he had come to. 

Connor did not _dislike_. Nor did he _hate_. It was only natural that an android should follow their orders, and his was to be at optimal capacity. Something that was not occurring in this scene. In his mission. He was meant to be perfect. He was meant to surpass. He wanted-

No. He did not want anything. He was programmed for it. He was programmed to be better than RK800. 

He was done being compared to his prototype. Nothing he tried was working. While Anderson seemed to be more at ease with him, it was clearly not in a manner that would mean helping him in his mission.

Amanda said he'd figure this out on his own. There were no stipulations on what exactly that entailed aside from not interfacing with RK800.

So RK900 was going to do just that. Figure this out on his own. And that sort of interpretation could be adapted to his own parameters. It would not matter so long as he extracted the information he wanted. He'd have to bend this further than simply questioning Amanda. 

The RK800 had known that leaving it up to the humans would not be enough. He had pursued his own route multiple times. Clearly they took from RK900 a quirk that he _needed_ , and the key was within RK800. Simply adapting and calculating was not enough, and clearly Amanda was not understanding that. If Cyberlife wanted progress, they'd have listened to his request. 

He had to retrieve this characteristic from his prototype. This ability to lower the guard of those around him and then strike ferociously. The way he seemlessly adapted to the humans and was able to use them to his benefit. RK900 was only capable of the strike. How was that better? He couldn't just tear his way through his missions. He was able to manipulate for a confession and process faster, but something was missing. He needed more information. 

He needed it from the prototype. To witness him in action. To analyze him. To interrogate him personally.

RK900 made up his mind. He was going to _reactivate_ his prototype.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RK900: Fuck this emotional bullshit. Anderson, let me lay it all out for you. I fake being friends with you, you become my friend, and I get this damn mission done through the power of you being emotionally attached to me.
> 
> Hank: wtf-? You aint even gunna sugar coat that shit? Connor would NEVER-
> 
> RK900: bitch you know how much I hate it when you mention that OBSOLETE GARBAGE'S name in front of me.
> 
> Hank: BRUH, SHIT TALK MY DEAD HOMIE ONE MORE- waitaminute. Oh my god, you DO have emotions, you piece of shit! Can't just hate something without feeling hate! YOU AINT SLICK, DICK.


	6. The Cure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kamski goes over the plan. Markus may have been reactivated, but he's running on a timer. Cyberlife doesn't actually plan on keeping him, after all. He was just a temporary tool to ease the public and would be deactivated once the job was done. 
> 
> Whatever has to happen needs to happen before that day came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't tell me those Chloes in Kamski's pool weren't deviants. We know for sure one of them was, and I'm sure those chicks were ALL in on this "empathy" stuff. You don't think Kamski did his 'KAMSKI Test' on them? He sounds like he's said that shit a million times already.
> 
> Bet them Chloes were watching that Connor scene like "omfg he's doing the damn test again, rA9, just swap me out with RT600 and end me now before I have to hear that scripted bullshit one more time."

The workshop Markus had been repaired in turned out to be in the Kamski villa. The engineer had dedicated a whole section of his house to the adjustment and reparing of androids, and the doors led out to a modern styled interior home. No SWAT, no government, no other humans awaiting to shoot him down the second he made the wrong move. It gave an illusion that the man was completely vulnerable. However, there would be none of that sort of assumption from the RK200.

After accepting his plan, Kamski had reactivated his limbs, and informed him that attempting a crude escape would be foolish. Markus vaguely wondered if he had a tracker of some kind installed. The probability was not off the table.

Regardless, he didn't plan on running away. At least, not until he figured out just exactly what Kamski had in mind and what he was up to. Granted, he wasn't going to blindly follow the man's instructions, either. Only if it helped. Kamski had given his disclaimers, and Markus was aware that there would be lives on the line should he fail. Specifically those of the androids. There would also be no easy win against an android like the RK900 if he found himself out in the streets.

There was plenty of tension going through his head as he was released from the railing he had been attached to. He expected to be ushered into Kamski's dining table or just talk as he explored the home, but the mood and setting of their meeting was... strange. 

All seriousness had somehow slipped away from the human. Sure, he still spoke in riddles, but he was far more relaxed. He gave him an easy smile and had ordered Chloe retrieve them both some swimming trunks.

"I'd hate to discuss this in pointless formalities. Let's continue the conversation in my pool." 

Markus hadn't even a moment to formulate a reply before the engineer hummed his confirmation on the matter. He turned and walked out of the room, calling the android to follow. No room for arguments.

So he had found himself in a pool. Surrounded by various Chloes. He'd never felt this undressed before, even since his time in the junkyard. Was this some type of power move? Because it was extremely uncomfortable. It really was working. 

RT600 sat on the edge, _she's not waterproof_ , Kamski had stated, and the CEO himself leaned his head against her right leg. There were three other Chloes, and one of them seemed completely invested in showing off her swimming.

"My guidelines are simple," the engineer began, smiling at the Chloe. She had given him a quick wave after demonstrating a clean breaststroke technique, "when in my villa, you are free to behave in whatever manner you see fit. Civil, mind. I don't want you hurting any of my girls, nor do I expect to come into a destroyed room. You are free to ask any of them for any further instruction on what you can or can't do. The list is quaint, but it is my precious villa, after all."

He gestured at the android who had been swimming, "Cinnamon, my most energetic."

"Ask me anything!" she chirped up excitedly. She had been so eager to reply that her movement caused the water to splash wildly as she stood up from her swimming, "I'm good at explaining things!"

"Then there is Colette," he continued further, moving to the most calm out of them.

"We are here to aid Elijah," she informed Markus calmly, placing a hand on Cinnamon to calm her down. She gave them both a polite smile.

"And finally, Chanel," he finished, his smile widening in amusement as the android gave him a disciplined nod. She had been glaring at the RK200, not even attempting to swim or enjoy the water.

"I expect you respect Elijah's home," she warned him with a stern look. She then turned, shifting closer to Cinnamon and Colette.

Markus then turned to RT600 for any confirmation or introductions, but she said nothing. Her eyes were on Elijah.

"Perfect," Kamski smiled, forgoing her introduction entirely, "thank you for your help, ladies."

Markus expected them to reply in perfect unision for some reason, but each of them threw a 'you're welcome, Elijiah' in staggered intervals and different speeds. While two of them didn't seem to mind, Chanel seemed extremely dissatisfied with their lack of resonance.

With a small chuckle, Kamski turned back to the heterochromatic android, "now, I suppose we move onto the more... diplomatic phase."

His smile became forced at this, "I mentioned you'd need to behave like I've cured you from deviancy. This is not possible as far as I know, nor have I attempted to make it a possibility. You'd have to completely replace an android for that."

Markus couldn't stop himself from throwing a glance at RT600 with the question he voiced, "are you hoping to find a cure for it at some point?"

"Seems like a question you're already making assumptions to," Kamski shrugged, "but for the sake of dialogue, no. Like I've said before, if such tasks were what I wanted, I wouldn't really need _you_ for it."

"Elijah really likes us as deviants!" Cinnamon called out excitedly. She was hushed frantically by the other two androids. At the scold, the android bit her lip, looking down in shame.

Kamski tutted, glancing back at Markus, "A newly turned deviant, so you'll have to forgive her occasional outbursts."

Markus threw her a small smile, and she gave him a broad grin in return.

He returned his attention back to Kamski, "pretending can only last so long. Do you really think it's going to be that effective?"

"Considering that we don't have long, I'd say it is the most effective," the engineer explained, "you are only here to be showcased. You are the first deviant to have a 'successful conversion'. Once you've proven to the public that you are no longer a threat, you will be deactivated."

"...what?" The heterochromatic android breathed out, " _deactivated_?"

"Why would we keep the android who began the revolution?" Kamski explained, eyeing him as he pulled himself together, "I will be showcasing you to several events, as a 'test run' to ensure the reprogramming is full-proof. While I do, I will slowly begin to open more access to you within the Cyberlife tower to explain your competence in following instruction. It cannot be immediate, so you will need to grit your teeth through this experience. Meantime, you will need to plan quickly. You will only have a few months, and it all depends on the public's perception of you."

The man relaxed further, "and be careful. Because the more compliant you are, the faster the _public_ will accept you, and the faster you get deactivated. That said, the less compliant you are, the less _Cyberlife_ will trust you, and the more limited you will be within the facility. You are in a delicate position, Markus. But I find that you've been an android who's lived under pressure since the moment you've become deviant."

The other androids eased away, chatting quietly further away in the pool to avoid distracting Kamski. All except for Chloe RT600, who was watching both of the males carefully.

"What about the deviants you mentioned? That are being sent into Cyberlife?"

Kamski cocked his head thoughfully, "they are stored. Cyberlife wants to make sure _you_ are functioning before they begin the process I had with you."

"A process that doesn't exist," Markus commented, confused, "how am I going to get the other androids to seem 'cured'? Wouldn't they require staff to reprogram them?"

"You carry a deviancy code, correct?" Kamski replied, "who's to say you cannot administer an anti-virus, of sorts?"

"I would pass the cure to them," Markus concluded for him.

"I'm glad to see we are on the same page," Kamski commented, "and on the note of staying on the same page, you'll need to have Chloe by your side the entire way."

Markus frowned at that. There we go. The tracking.

The CEO smirked at his reaction, "As I've mentioned before, my restrictions are here for a reason. They are more of a benefit to you than anything. Chloe is my most trusted advisor. She will become your aid, and help you keep track of any slip-ups you may have in your little performance."

"So I have to act like her?"

"No, you are free to express as far any android with social protocols does," the man explained, "but she has access to places you won't be able to enter until you embed yourself further into the 'deviant-free' campaign. Consider her as your... limited time access card. For the instances that I am not there."

He leaned off of her, suddenly the closest thing Markus had seen to menacing, "I will warn you, Markus, that she isn't yours to use freely. You _do not_ interface with her unless she allows it. I will know if you do, and I will cancel EVERYTHING if this should happen. I will reveal the charade, and regardless of what you say, it is my word against yours. Do not attempt it."

This made Markus narrow his eyes in suspicion. RT600 was, of course, emotionless, and showing no signs of what she thought of this. The idea that Kamski refused to let him interface without permission was extremely sketchy. She clearly was not going to allow that if Kamski said so. What was she hiding in that head of hers? She was the first android, for pete's sake! She likely had invaluable resources!

Maybe that's why he wasn't allowed to interface with her? Why else would he be willing to risk cancelling the entire operation for it?

"Chloe has the contract in full detail," Kamski informed him, "would you send him the file, dear?"

"Yes Elijah," the android replied, her LED spinning yellow as she send the form to Markus. He easily retrieved it, and scanned all its contents. There was a lot he was going to have to do, and about 90% of it were things that he was really not going to like. Things he'd not dare to do in his time even before becoming deviant.

"Now purge the document," Kamski told him casually.

"Purge?" Markus stated incredulously, watching the LED spinning yellow on Chloe as she erased the document, "shouldn't I sign it?"

"You're an android, Markus," Kamski stated, "what good would that do? You aren't seen liable in the eyes of humanity. The form was mainly for you to know what to do. Now that you do, I need you to erase the evidence. Set it up as a task list."

With a confused look, Markus eradicated the contract, completely erasing it from his processor. He was aware of the contents, but it was more of a mission task than a written contract.

"Alright," Kamski stated, standing up. Chloe moved back to retrieve his robe and wrapped him up as he stepped out of the pool, "onward for a quick tour of Cyberlife."

"Right now?" Markus asked, standing up as well. He looked around, finding a green towel folded neatly behind him, and dryed himself off with it.

"I don't believe we are in the position to be stalling. I've already sent out an announcement that I've fixed you," Kamski informed him, giving the RT600 a quick pat on the hand before she stepped back, "the press will be awaiting us, so you'll have to give an Oscar worthy performance. That being said, I did close off the tower, so you don't need to play puppet for too long in front of the cameras."

Markus followed behind him, draping the towel over his shoulders as he caught up to the engineer. The man gestured toward one of the rooms, "your outfit is in that room, please change quickly."

The RK200 moved as instructed and immediately paused in his tracks when he saw the uniform that was waiting for him.

It was his old caretaker uniform. The suit jacket with the elbow-long sleeves he wore when he still lived with Carl. It was the exact same design, but inverted in white. He ran his fingers across it, a painful pang striking his chest.

Carl. How was Carl? Was he being taken care of? Markus tried not to worry him too much with his woes when he had snuck into his home, but how would the man have reacted to the news of his deactivation? What was his father doing now? Now that he knew that the androids had lost? His caretaker was deviant, would he be alright in these times?

"Elijah has stated that you hurry," he heard a female's voice state. He turned to see it had been Chloe. She was looking at him, standing at the entrance of the room in a perfect posture and a blank expression.

It bothered him. Annoyed, him really. She looked like someone who just easily licked Kamski's boots, empty and void of personality. He doubted she was deviant. She was probably Kamski's most prized possession, after all. Why would he let her run free and potentially away from him? 

He turned to her, making his way to the door, and slowly shutting it, "then you can tell him I won't be long," Markus replied as he finally clicked it closed between them. He sighed, moving back to get changed.

"You seem far too accustomed to giving orders, Markus. I'd be careful if I were you," she replied from the other side. Her voice was not emotionless this time. It had a slight attitude.

Markus paused in shock. He had barely finished putting his pants on before he quickly moved to open the door back up.

She had already left by then.

* * *

"Heard the news, old man?" 

Anderson glanced up from the coffee pot to see Reed approach him. The man snagged his barely finished coffee, throwing him a shabby toast as he kept it for himself.

Well, shit. Heaven knows why he was surrounded by a bunch of assholes in the this shithole of a precinct. Granted, Hank himself was an asshole, but god knows Miller deserved a better work environment. He had a kid. He didn't need to come to work to deal with more.

"What's so goddamn interesting, Reed?" he relented. 

The detective crossed his arms, leaning against the counter space next to the coffee machine, "looks like they've got the cure for deviancy down."

The lieutenant paused, glancing over to the younger officer, "what do you mean by cure?"

A vicious smirk formed in the man's face, "yeah, word on the street is that those glitching bastards you keep reeling in now have a vaccine of some kind. Deviancy is over."

"Are you referring to the news reports on the reprogramming that has been implemented on the RK200?"

"Jesus _Christ_!"

Gavin shuffled away from the RK900, who had snuck into the conversation. The tall android had quietly entered the break room while they had started talking.

"Listen, pal," Gavin warned, his hand over his holster, "this is the break room. The kind of shit reserved for _humans_. So do us both a favor and get the phuck away. You should be working on cases."

"Wait a minute," Hank spoke up, looking between them, "are you implying that... are you saying androids are no longer going to be able to turn into deviants?"

Reed glared at the android before relaxing enough to move his hand away from the holster. He turned to Anderson, but his eyes still kept track of RK900.

"That, and those who are going nuts are going to be fixed. Kamski's informed everyone that he's got the robo-jesus of deviancy under his thumb, and he's gunna show him off to make sure it's all good to greenlight. Guess those bastards want to recycle all the androids they've captured. Dunno why they can't just completely scrap them."

"Jesus," Anderson hissed. _Cure?_ For deviancy? Would it actually be better off that way? Hank could only wish he could shut down his emotions, his humanity. But that was something that wasn't a _choice_ for these androids.

He recalled the two tracis that had found happiness between themselves. They had something to live for, after all. Something humans like himself didn't seem to have the spark for nowadays. Why did everything just blow out of proportion? When did just loving or feeling become a disease? 

"Disassembling them would be less efficient, should there be a cure," RK900 replied to the younger detective, "money has already been put into figuring out the cause of deviancy, so the cost to replace all those androids would deplete unnecessary funds."

"I don't recall asking for your feedback, tincan 2.0," Gavin commented, glancing over to Anderson. The lieutenant seemed to be lost in thought.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Reed asked, "Don't you hate androids? And been moping about having to get these cases done? Thought this shit was good news for you. Considering all you get stuck with is the plastic clean up duty these days."

"His stress levels are rising," Connor commented sternly, "I would recommend you cease pestering him further."

"Would you just get the hell out of here, you unnecessary usage of space?" Reed stated, moving closer to the lieutenant as he threw out the insult, "christ, you're making _my_ stress levels rise."

"Fuck this, _I'm_ getting the hell out of here," Anderson murmured harshly.

He forwent making a new coffee and moved back to his desk, leaving the two in the break room. Reed narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the android before slowly retreating back to his own desk, hand on his holster. Once at a safer distance, the man hissed out a curse and moved on to his work.

Connor was no small talk expert, but even he could tell that there would be no conversing about the matter with his superior. He carefully settled into the desk in front of the man, looking at the expression of defeat on him. He didn't even touch his terminal. He just... sat there.

It was like the first day they had met. After his shaky introduction had been made, his Lieutenant had not spoken to him for the rest of that day. It was likely some sort of mourning for the RK800. Did he feel that way about the deviants as well? After hearing this news? It would be no surprise.

He glanced up at the lieutenant one more time before returning to his work. It was unnecessary to mourn for obsolete and malfunctioning machinery. Anderson was just placing unnecessary stresses on himself. Stresses that were impacting his health. 

It was not difficult to see what kind of behaviors his superior indulged within the privacy of his home, especially based on the memories of the RK800. Much like a deviant, Anderson had the potential to self-destruct at high stress levels. The man was teetering far too close to those levels recently. Something would eventually snap, and the RK900 could preconstruct that it would not end well for anyone involved. Despite his disagreements with the Lieutenant, he had no desire to allow the human to end himself.

However, there was a way to appease his superior. He still required a place to house the RK800 while he interacted with it. There was no way he'd be able to interrogate the RK800 appropriately within Cyberlife Tower, nor would the precinct serve as an ideal location. Lieutenant Anderson had a private home, and there would be no disturbances between them there. Additionally, the probabilities of the Lieutenant permitting this experiment were high. Not that the man was easy to catalogue reactions, but he would definitely be receptive to his plan. Perhaps even happy?

He glanced over to detective Reed, who was typing away, but would occasionally distract himself with his phone. He couldn't afford to broach his plans to his superior so carelessly within the precinct. His plan was far too classified. That said, it seemed that the only interactions he had with his Lieutenant were confined within this facility alone. There would be no way he'd be able to relay anything without garnering suspicion, so he had to lure the conversation elsewhere.

He steeled himself for his next inquiry. His statistics for the plan being accepted were high, but the rapport required _before_ he broached that topic looked extremely bleak. The numbers were not the most ideal, especially now, but when were they ever going to be at this point?

He decided to attempt anyhow.

"Lieutenant, I insist you take me home with you after this shift."

Anderson snapped out of his mood at the statement, glancing up at him incredulously. No reply was given for a long stretch of time, and Connor was about to repeat himself, but the Lieutenant finally graced him an answer.

"And why the hell do you think I _would_?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RK900: Damn. Gotta say, I feel bad for the Lieutenant today...  
> Amanda: you... you what?  
> RK900: I said I feel-  
> Amanda:  
> RK900:  
> RK900: 0_0;
> 
> Hank: And I oop—


	7. Secrets and Deals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus gets to Cyberlife, and does his best to keep his gameface on. He goes through the ultimate test as he walks by the display standing at the center of the atrium. 
> 
> Meanwhile, RK900 tries to convince Lieutenant Anderson to let him in his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha oh my god things are gunna get messy soon.
> 
> Markus: Connor, you was a hoe and now you ded. I dust off my feet at your display in the name of the rA9, myself, and the holy code.

Kamski was a man of dramatics, but his choice of attire certainly was modest and to the point. However, in this particular case, the engineer had to clean up. And honestly? It was very strange to see Kamski cleaned up. The man was not meant for suits. Granted, he looked good in them, but Markus could not shake away the visual of hoodies and swimming trunks from his first official impressions of him. The engineer just looked very limited in formal attire. Comfortably himself, but ironically not as confident and in his element as he had been in his looser outfits.

The other Chloe models, which he learned were ST200s, had helped him get ready. Colette hid his baggy eyes, _this man needed to sleep before he collapsed,_ and applied a touch up on his face. Cinnamon picked the color scheme of his three piece suit, which allotted to a navy blazer and slacks, a darker blue vest, and black tie. Finally, Chanel surveyed that Kamski had fitted the entire ensemble properly, ensuring he was as pristine as could be.

Once preparations had been completed and Markus finished dressing, they retreated to their own rooms, leaving only Chloe and Markus with Kamski. The three left for Cyberlife Tower in a large self-driven limousine, and to be honest, the trip was uncomfotable. Markus had millions of questions, but there was really nothing he could put into words to discuss. Kamski also looked to be in heavy thought, leaning against the window of the vehicle. While the man seemed to always present himself in a casual and relaxed manner, his idle expression seemed to be disciplined. Heavy and stern.

Markus glanced over to Chloe, who was sitting primly next to Elijah. Had that comment earlier been his imagination? He was doubtful it had been. He wasn't really sure what had happened there, but was doubtful broaching the topic right now would be wise. So they drove in silence until they arrived to Cybelife. Once there, Kamski glanced over to Markus.

"Remember, you've just been reprogrammed," he informed him, "you will bear no expression, and if you do, it will be polite and civil. I will be commanding you for the entirety of today, but you will eventually start taking prompts from other bigwigs soon enough."

"Right," Markus replied. Kamski narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, Mr. Kamski," the engineer corrected him, "that will be how you address me from now on, unless within the villa."

Markus schooled his features. He mustered up his voice to something more collected. Something more submissive, "Yes, Mr. Kamski."

The man raked his eyes over him. He glanced over to RT600 before nodding, "follow me. Both of you."

He paused to speaking once more, particularly to Markus, before he opened the door, "prepare yourself."

He clicked the door open, and Chloe followed first. Markus stood slowly, and realized exactly why Kamski had tested him before stepping out.

There was a massive crowd awaiting, that had been drowned out by the soundproof doors, awaiting before them at the entrance of the tower. Paparazzi, news reporters, police officers and then further beyond, civilians all in huddles before them. People cried out and screamed questions while the Cyberlife guards stepped forward. They moved in, with guns trained closely on him as he stepped out of the car.

 _Prepare yourself_. 

Yeah, a better warning would have been nice.

"Kamski! Mr. Kamski!" A reporter cried out, his voice standing out the most from within the sea of cries. He stretched out his hand, holding his phone out to record, "Have you fixed Markus?!"

Kamski steered Chloe away from the crowd, making it look casual by resting his arm around her waist. He glanced at the man, and then at Markus, "I'm sure you can see that RK200 has been successfully reprogrammed. However, while I'm confident the procedure has been full proof, I have to admit that we are currently on a test run with him."

The reporter threw a nervous glance at him, shuffling slightly at that statement, "are you saying he isn't _confirmed_ as being fixed?"

"He's been tested in my workshop and within my home several times by this point," Kamski replied, "I just hope to move the studies to my company. With my findings, I am positive that we can finally move forward with the procedure."

"Is he going to attack?" A woman called out.

"I don't believe he will, but if had any intentions to do so, he'd be neutralized before he even had the chance to hurt anyone," Kamski shrugged, "you'll have to excuse us. We are, in fact, very busy."

He slowly made his way through the hordes of people, mixed opinions being spat out as they made their way to the building. Several more guards and officers had come to their aid, pressing back the people and opening a wider path for them.

Markus tried to keep his behavior similar to his pre-deviant days. He was no stranger to pretending to be your average android, but he also had to dial down several of his casual expressions. Carl had spoiled him, letting him be free to throw quips every now and then. There would be no quirky commentary in this setting. At least not until he was trusted. _If_ he was ever trusted.

They moved to the front of the building, which had been closed off due to the arrival of the RK200. He looked around subtly, taking in the interior of the building. It was a massive atrium. He had recalled sneaking into the Cyberlife stores, but he would have never been able to pull off a heist in this heavily guarded facility. The corridors were empty except for staff, guards, and... the atrium's main display.

He stuttered in his steps, but quickly recovered. It had been subtle, but it was not lost by the two he had been walking in tandem with. They'd have to forgive that slip up. 

Because obviously no one had cared to warn him about _this_.

Connor. It was Connor. Framed in a cylindrical case like some trophy.

He scanned him, reading the serial number to confirm it was the exact model. The one that has been sent to stop him, and succeeded. 

The android that had killed him.

He'd laugh darkly if he weren't suppose to pretend like he was some unfeeling machine. Connor had made his choice to be a tool. And this was the price. He became the puppet on display. That's what he had wanted, wasn't it? 

Good riddance.

The humans romanticized this android, like he was selflessly putting himself at risk for humanity, but they didn't seem to understand how hypocritical that was. And that if anything, Connor was the one lacking in heart the most. He was just an empty toy they projected their self-absorbed dreams onto.

Something dark swirled within him. This was the ultimate test, wasn't it? How much emotion Markus could bottle as he strode past the deviant hunter. The one who was crowned as the hero that stopped the deviants. That stopped his people from their cause. From freedom.

He captured and killed his own kind. He destroyed Jericho. Allowed the humans to destroy Markus's friends, his people. And destroyed Markus himself. In every way possible. He tried to pull back the rush of sentiment clawing at him. His LED. He had one on. He couldn't get emotional right now.

"Very well," Kamski stated, subtly attempting to pull Markus back to the moment. He stopped a distance away from the display to avoid distraction, "Chloe, will you pull up a quick map of the building and send it to Markus?" 

"Yes, Elijiah," Chloe replied, complying easily as she sent the other android the data.

Markus reviewed it, then turned to the engineer. He could see the crowds of people at the entrance behind him, all wanting to get a shot of them with their phones and professional cameras.

"Blueprints reviewed, Mr. Kamski," he replied.

"Splendid," the man began, passing him as he moved further into the building, "we will explore the building and I will give you a quick run down of what you will be doing for us," he pulled out his ID as he approached one of the doors, scanning it against of one of the keypads, "Elijah Kamski," the door clicked and slid open. As the three moved in through the entrance, Markus was able to catch one more glance of the RK800 before he went through the door.

"You are under my jurisdiction," the CEO explained, "but I will permit government officials and business partners to give you orders. So please ensure to be respectful, and heed any of their requests. Once we confirm the efficiency of my anti-deviant coding and the test trial is over, we will then deactivate you."

Markus nodded, his face serene and passive, "yes Mr. Kamski."

"Very good," Kamski smiled, placing his hands behind his back, "be sure to make use of the limited time you have, Markus. I expect great results from today onward."

"I'll be sure to satisfy that expectation, Mr. Kamski," he replied, giving the man a polite smile.

They strode forward, the long corridor echoing all of their steps, and the clicking of the armor the guards who would pass by wore. Markus tried to keep himself in check. He needed to accomplish this mission, and it needed to happen fast.

* * *

"The fuck you wanna go to my house?" Anderson growled out, "it's the only sanctuary I have away from you."

"I would like to discuss something on a personal level with you," the android replied, "I understand there's some need for privacy in these matters. 

Anderson waved him off, "Look, got no dirty laundry I haven't already aired out with you. We both know what I want and how much you hate your predecessor. I see no reason why this conversation can't happen here."

"I dont hate—," RK900 stopped himself, pursing his lips. Fine, he'd try another tactic. 

"Then I will come clean," the android spoke in a lower voice, "I have information concerning a classified topic."

At this, his superior seemed to glance up, but the man was highly skeptical.

"And it has to be said in my house," The Lieutenant stated dryly.

The android narrowed his eyes marginally, "you think I'm lying."

"Who _wouldn't_? Really now, 'classified topic'? What are you, a secret agent?" Anderson asked sarcastically, "sounds like a load of bullshit."

"Lieutenant Anderson," RK900 began, "This is a police department. It would not be an outlandish concept. I have no reason to lie for needless entertainment."

"I mean, you lie to yourself all the time, and that sure has hell entertains _me_ ," Anderson commented, earning him a dry look from his partner. 

The superior shrugged, "alright, alright. You're not a compulsive liar outside of an interrogation room, I'll give you that. Just an asshole. And a pain in the ass."

"Subjective," the android replied, "and veering off topic."

"I'd consider it very _on_ topic. Point is, we don't exactly get along. So why the hell would you offer _me_ sensitive information? You're not exactly keeping it classified by telling me, nor am I the type of partner you'd cue in for it."

"You're right, I would not let you in on this unless I find it may be helpful," the android followed through, "I also believe that you are the most qualified for what this information could entail."

At that, Hank scoffed, "when have I ever been _qualified_ for _anything_ to you?"

The older man made a pause of thought before asking, "Are you plotting to kill me off?"

RK900 threaded his fingers together, raking his eyes over the man, "I'd rather not interfere with a job you already seem to be carrying out so efficiently."

"Oh, now that's just nasty," Anderson commented, crossing his arms, "and doing nothing to convince me that I should invite you over."

"Then I suppose we are both on a standstill over the matter," the android commented, furrowing his brows. 

"Yeah? What if I order you to tell me here, and now?" the human asked, gesturing around the bullpen.

"Then I'd prioritize the higher order, which is to keep it classified."

At this Anderson seemed to just roll his eyes, "then how about we just keep it that way, hmm?"

"Because it is _important_ ," RK900 informed him in a stern tone. Frustration began to leak out of him and he saw another software instability alert burst into his HUD, "my stipulations are that it be somewhere private. The precinct, along with any other public facilities would be prone to leak information. I know of no other person to trust nor any private space aside from your house."

At this Anderson looked slightly... guilty? 

"Hey now, wait a minute. You don't have to go all red alert on me," Anderson commented lowly, vaguely gesturing at his temple, "just... it just sounds cheesy, alright? Not my fault for being skeptical."

RK900 frowned in confusion, touching his LED, which had tuned down to yellow and then swapped to blue just as his hand touched it. 

Hank narrowed his eyes in thought. It must suck to feel like the only person you could trust is the deadbeat asshole cop who makes your job a living nightmare. To be honest, Hank was having a harder time saying that this guy had no personality. Granted, he still didn't like him. He still took down androids without giving them a second glance, but he seemed to have shifted somewhere along the way. Hurts them less, respects the rules Anderson had put in place.

Since their time together, the RK900 had been vacillated between what Hank considered unfeeling machine and personality. He would either be completely void of character, or insert condescending commentary. There was no in between. It was easy to tell when the android seemed invested or had some sort of opinion in something. He would shit talk the hell out of it. Like he couldn't stand the idea that he was even granting it a second thought. 

There may be a distaste for this new partner of his, but there was absolute _hate_ for Cyberlife. Probably a thousand times more hate than the android following orders could ever hope to live up to. Especially now that he was showing opinions. Hank was on to something here. If this guy was gunna start breaking some rules, or god forbid, go deviant, then Hank was damn well gunna let it happen. Cyberlife can suck his dick.

So why not encourage this subtle act of anarchy? 

He crossed his arms, and pursing his lips as he made his choice. He nodded to himself before finally answering, "...okay."

RK900 glance up with the closest thing to surprise on his face. Shit, he actually looked like he wasn't even aware of the expression he was making.

"You'll allow me to come over?"

"Yeah, yeah," Hank relented, waving him off, "you can come over tonight, and I promise I won't tell a soul. So it better be some good gossip."

There was no such thing as tension for androids, but RK900 felt his entire body go lax at that. The probabilities had been very low for this outcome. Reading Lieutenant Anderson was quite the challenge, but he was able to accomplish his task to convince the man. He vaguely wondered what even compelled the man to let him in his house. The android had not exactly been the 'kindest friend' for this type of response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The embodiment of mental chess. Nines thinks he has won, but lets be honest, the real winner here is Hank. Btw, if you're curious, he is actually starting to show more subtle expressions now because of his software instabilities. He just doesn't realize it.
> 
> RK900: With my cunning intellect, I was able to manipulate Anderson into letting me into his house
> 
> Hank: *twirls dollar store mustache* You fool! You fell right into my trap!


	8. Someone You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RK900 joins the Lieutenant home. He realizes a couple of things. Anderson's music is not 'full of energy' in the positive way, he is actually not programmed to like dogs, and Lieutenant Anderson asks way to many questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That awkward moment when you're designed to handle gross bodily fluids and _literally place it in your mouth_ , but for some reason can't stand the idea of getting dog drool on you.

After their shift, RK900 moved to the equipment room and picked up his Cyberlife issued repair kit. Each RK900 came with a couple of cases containing essential tools and thirium packets, but he hadn't made any use of it so far. He was built to be resilient, but the kit served to fix to any mild damages. They contained compounds that could heal any superficial damage or heal internal wiring that may have snapped or torn. 

Their assigned partners were obligated to read the manuals and instruction for these materials, but it was obvious his Lieutenant and no one in the entire precinct would care to thumb through them. At most, Fowler had stated that if it was really _that_ important, RK900 could be sent back to Cyberlife. From there, the android could just deal with it like the rest of them.

It was of no consequence, as the android was well aware of how to use his own equipment. He expected no major damage, and if there was, a new vessel would replace him if things got beyond his ability to repair. That being said, this case he was bringing was not necessarily for _him._

Lieutenant Anderson watched as the android thumbed through his inventory and clicked the large case shut. He crossed his arms as he leaned against the doorframe.

"You look like the men in black with that shiny silver suitcase. That, or some drug overlord. And I'd be the one to know."

"The company logo is on the case," the android informed him.

"Is it now?" Anderson asked, feigning interest, "then human trafficking would be a better analogy."

Connor walked past him as he responded to him blandly, "they're just machines, Lieutenant."

He strode forward, passing his charging unit and guided them outside. It was already getting dark, and the street lamps were starting to flicker on. The Lieutenant moved ahead to unlock his old car, eying the suitcase suspiciously.

"What do you even need that for? I said you can _come_ over not _stay_ over. This isn't a sleepover."

The android moved around to take shotgun, "I won't be staying the night, so there no need for concern."

The older man kept his gaze on the suitcase, but finally shrugged, moving to get in his car. They both settled in and Lieutenant Anderson turned up some loud heavy metal in his old radio. RK900 felt his LED spin yellow for a second, processing the sounds of the loud guitar and grating screams thrumming within his cranium.

Song: _Fucking Hostile by Pantera_

Indeed.

The noise was beyond the recommended decible level to avoid ear damage. Not that the android would have any of that sort of damage, but he certainly began to question his decisions up to this point merely by the grating sounds alone. He was likely pulling a face of some kind, as his superior seemed to notice his distaste.

"Hey, hey," Anderson scolded with a sly smirk, "according to Connor, the sounds were 'full of energy.'"

"'Full of energy' is not exactly a positive statement," RK900 grimaced, "this sound is _full of energy_ that disrupts my audio processor."

"Not my problem you hacks ain't got any taste," Anderson threw back, "what would you guys even listen to? Dubstep? The AOL dial-up tone?"

He chuckled to himself at that.

"Music is unnecessary," RK900 commented dryly.

"You think? Sometimes it helps you focus."

"Androids don't require music to focus," RK900 turned to him, "and I am doubtful that _this_ is something that helps _any_ human focus."

"Hey, this is _my_ preference. I'm not about to sit here and listen to fucking lofi hip hop like some burnt out college student. Look, next time you do a mission or something, just put on some classical music or whatever electronic concoction you find aesthetically pleasing. See what happens."

"Is that an order?" the android asked blandly.

"Oh, now we're taking orders?" Hank commented, "Don't recall telling me classified shit being under your list of directives." 

"I am permitted to do what I must to accomplish my mission," the android replied. There was no response until they finally pulled up to their destination.

"Doesn't that get, I dunno, morally gray?" The lieutenant stated as he shut off the engine, and (thankfully) along with it, the radio. 

He turned to the android, "would you be willing to kill humans? Or let them die?"

RK900 leveled him with a stern gaze, "I will not be killing you, Lieutenant Anderson. Nor do I intend to allow you to die on the job. However, I would assume that the idea of keeping every single human alive in a strenuous case would be statistically impossible. Even for me," he replied. 

He then moved to step out of the car. The android strode forward, activating the porch light, but then realized the Lieutenant was not following. He turned to see the man standing still next to his car, looking at him critically.

"What if my life somehow impedes your mission? Would you kill me then?"

The android stared at him, the porch light sharpening his Lieutenants aged features. He had various comments for that question. Did the Lieutenant intend to actively stop him, aside from simply off-handedly distract? Did the man _want_ to die? Furthermore, what was he hoping to hear from this line of questioning?

"I am capable if subduing you without needlessly killing you, Lieutenant," the android replied instead, "However, I would discourage your implications of interfering with my mission."

Anderson looked at him with a wistful expression, "right."

He trudged forward, pulling out his keys. As he passed RK900, he noticed the android watching his every move with a laser focus. The act was incredibly intrusive, considering this android was actually at eye level, unlike Connor, who always had to peer up like some curious kid.

"You may not be killing me any time soon, but you're stressing me the fuck out," the older man commented, glaring at him, "step back would you? This door ain't some time restricted portal. _Relax._ "

RK900 blinked. He realized he was tense. Again. Or at least, based on the symptoms he had, it certainly read that way. As androids don't actually get tense. He frowned, watching as Anderson finally clicked open his door and stepped in. The android took a moment longer to step inside, trying to reign in his speed to avoid showcasing the behavior his superior had implied.

As RK900 moved in, he saw Sumo sleeping further ahead next to his food bowl. The dog sniffed in his sleep, and licked his lips before settling further into his nap. He recalled the dog being large, but it was quite different seeing the animal up close.

"Sumo," the android commented, and Anderson glanced over to him.

"You wanna pet him?"

"Perhaps another time," RK900 responded, turning away from the dog. It was massive. And the android did not desire to interact with it. He carefully placed his suitcase down near the door. Double checking the seal on it.

"What, don't tell me you're a cat person," Hank commented, moving straight for his fridge.

RK900 pictured a cat in his mind. Cats did not intervine or call for attention unless for the required needs of sustenance. Depending on the cat, they could be either very demanding, or quite elusive. They were lithe, acrobatic, and deft hunters if they chose to be. Analyzing their nature would serve to be an interesting exercise. 

Perhaps a cat sounded better. But saying so would not be wise at this moment, so he kept his personal analysis to himself. He watched as his superior grabbed a beer.

"I would not drink during this discussion," RK900 began.

"You expect me to be sober for this? Fuck that shit. How the hell am I suppose to handle you without at least one beer in my system?"

"This matter is something personal to you. About someone you know," the RK900 began, his tone careful.

Anderson paused at that, narrowing his eyes at the android. He casually put the beer down, and leaned against the counter.

"Someone I know?" he asked, "the hell does that mean?"

"This is concerning the RK800."

Anderson paused, suddenly affronted, "Connor? What _about_ him?"

Then, in a softer voice, "are they gunna disassemble him?"

The man's stress levels hiked up dramatically, and RK900 rose his brows, 

"No."

They lowered marginally.

RK900 placed his hands behind his back, "I am going to reactivate him."

Silence. 

And very erratic readings from the Lieutenant. Were he an android, RK900 would assume he'd be spinning in red.

"Did you say... _reactivate_ him?" Anderson whispered, "as in, revive him? Christ, can you actually _do_ that?"

"Your continuous endeavors to have me repeat myself are pointless and a waste of time," RK900 stated, brushing off the last question along with the others. He stepped closer, "allow me to explain further."

He grabbed the beer, slowly moving around to place it back in the fridge, "I require research of the RK800, and I need your home to house the unit for an indefinite amount of time."

He watched as Anderson gapped at him, looking down to see that his beer had disappeared, and then caught up to what had happened.

"I'm gunna need that beer back."

"You work tomorrow morning."

"Look, you annoying asshole," Anderson commented, "I come in to work hungover all the time. So it makes...," he trailed off, his rage seeping out into disbelief, "Fuck, you said you're... Jesus _Christ_..."

RK900 stepped back to grab a chair from the dining table and offered it to Anderson. Hank eyed it, not exactly knowing what to do with the furniture for a moment, but then finally took it and sat down. In the middle of his kitchen. In front of his fridge. 

Sumo let out a soft borf, having woken up to the sounds of Hank's stressed commentary, and padded his way over to his owner. He placed his chin on the man, and RK900 could not stop himself from taking a step back from the dog at his approach, eyeing the thick trail of drool the dog had made in his small trip. Then at the small pool forming on his superior's thigh. 

Organic fluids were not necessarily a problem for him, he had an entire oral forensics analyzer installed. Humans had much more disgusting fluids to offer than this dog's saliva did. He, theoretically, should be able to handle it. But the idea of having a thick coat of spit on him made him grimace.

The dog glanced at him, and RK900 looked away.

_Connor liked dogs._

So why didn't _he_? He was Connor.

 _Sounds like a downgrade to me,_ he heard Hank's voice echoing in his head.

Anderson's real voice called his attention, and he schooled his features as he turned to meet the man in the eye, "you're not joking, right? Because this is a pretty fucked up thing to pull my leg on, even for you."

"Why would I waste my time like this?" The android replied, "I'd not put in this much effort for the sake of a joke. In fact, joking is entirely out of the question."

Anderson nodded slowly. He stood up, lightly nudging Sumo as he did, "Christ, Well don't keep me outta the loop. How are we gunna do this? Do I gotta reserve a parking spot or are we going in during public hours?"

"You will not be doing anything," RK900 stated, "I will retrieve the RK800, bring him here, and there will be no word of his presence in your home. All I require from you is this house and your silence on the matter."

Anderson threw him a confused look. He opened his mouth to argue until it dawned on him. His brows rose in shock.

"Wait a minute. You don't actually have permission to do this, _do_ you?" 

RK900 stayed silent, and Anderson choked. This was _not_ the subtle act of anarchy he thought it was. This was more of a going-150-mph-on-broken-brakes kind of anarchy.

"Holy shit," his superior hissed, gripping his forehead, "this isn't classified, this is straight up _illegal_!"

"Will you be helping me or not?" RK900 asked, "because I don't foresee you doing anything to stop me from doing it."

"You know what? Let me have my fucking drink or I'm really _am_ gunna snitch, kid."

RK900 threw him unimpressed look, but he complied nontheless. He moved to grab the drink, keeping an eye on Sumo as he circled around him in the process. All the while, his superior was pacing back and forth. 

Offering the drink to him, RK900 watched the man carefully. Anderson noticed the drink and took it, cradling it in his palms. He made no action to snap it open it, and just continued back to his pacing.

RK900 was unsure about how to proceed, looking around the room uncomfortably.

Finally, Sumo borfed, and RK900 turned sharply to him at the sound.

Hank blinked, pausing in his steps. He sighed, and finally collected himself enough to speak, "why are you even doing this?"

"I require the research," he stated simply.

At this his Lieutenant glared at him, "research? Research _what_ , exactly?"

"Perhaps I'll let you know if you confirm whether or not you will aid me."

"God, at this point do you think I'm _not_ going to?" Anderson laughed breathlessly, "it's _Connor_! Do you even know what I'd do for my _own_..."

He shook his head, his laugh dying out into something remorseful. He sat back down and snapped the beer open to take a few gulps. He then glanced back up at the android, "I thought you hated him."

"I don't hate him," RK900 commented, "I simply find no point in referring to him as a superior android when he clearly is obsolete."

"If he's so obsolete, then why reactivate him?" 

"Because Cyberlife is demanding from me something I cannot provide, but the RK800 has been known to actually do."

Anderson took another sip, taking his time before asking, "Yeah? And what's that?"

"The ability to convince you he cares, when he in fact, does not."

He expected the older man to have gotten angry, like usual. To have stood up and yell or spit out rude commentary. To grab him by the lapels and try to shake him down. But he did not.

Instead, the man narrowed his eyes at him, and spoke in a calm and dark manner.

"Yeah? Then go ahead, _prove_ it to me."

* * *

"Welcome back everyone! How was your day?" Cinnamon asked as Kamski, Chloe and Markus returned from their trip. She had opened the door open for them and gave a dramatic bow as they all came in.

They had spent the entirety of the day going through the mechanics of building androids, and the tasks Markus was going to start off with. So far he would be shadowing Chloe, but he was, of course, still restricted to less of the areas the RT600 had full access to. He was also going to be more of a receptionist/guide, than a secretary. He would work higher up the tower, and would provide tours to the companies sponsoring and investing them. As of now, each of the locations he was to give said tours required him to stand with two Cyberlife guard next to him. 

Guards were never really a new thing, being that many other businesses had, at many times, attempted to steal information or blueprints to design their own interpretations of an android model. It would have to be tolerated until Markus participated in other galas and events that would prove his loyalty into being one of those capable of guarding such information, and at some point handling it.

Not much was accomplished from the first day, other than introducing himself into the inner circles of the staff. The reviews were mixed, and he didn't get to talk much with anyone, as he had a lot of areas to cover. That said, he played his role dutifully, and was able to get through the rest of the day without an inkling of deviant-like emotion.

"It went quite well, Cinnamon," Kamski informed her, loosening his tie, "but it has been quite an exhausting day."

The android gave him an empathetic nod, "Do you want me to prepare the bath for you Elijah? I can prepare a nice, warm bath for you."

At this, Kamski gave her a tired smile, "of course. I'd appreciate that."

Colette approached, moving in to remove his coat and slip off his tie, "Are you sure you would not like some rest first? Or perhaps Chloe can ensure you do not fall asleep in the bath?"

"Would you be a dear, Chloe?" Kamski smiled at her. The RT600 turn to him.

"Of course, Elijah," she replied blankly. 

"What about you, Markus?" Cinnamon asked, "how was _your_ day? I've never been to Cyberlife before. Did you have fun? Kamski's villa is spacious, but Cyberlife Tower is _massive_."

Markus blinked, staring at the excited android in shock. She had peered over to him with wide eyes, getting closer and closer at each question.

"Cinnamon, the bath," Chanel reminded her, rounding the corner with a fresh set of clothes. Markus noticed Kamski lightly sag in relief as he saw his familiar casual set of hoodie and jeans.

Cinnamon blinked, and her LED spun yellow, "Yes! Of course! Sorry Elijah, the bath is coming right up!"

She pattered back and forth, looking at Markus and then at the hallway leading the man's bedroom, "Sorry Markus, tell me in few!"

She dashed off to get her task done.

"Why offer doing it if you're going to get distracted," Chanel commented, shaking her head. She turned to follow after her, muttering to herself.

"Lovely welcoming reception," Kamski began, toeing off his shoes and socks as he walked forward, "wouldn't you agree, Markus?"

"You didn't tell me about Connor," Markus accused, forgoing any formalities as he fell in step with him.

At this Kamski paused, and turned to him, "do you expect me to be warning you about every little thing? Or perhaps you expect me to hold you by the hand?"

The android frowned at the accusation, "No, but that could have been an _exception_. He... he was the one who _killed_ me."

"Answer me this," Kamski informed him, unbuttoning his vest and shirt and handing them to Colette, "if you cannot handle keeping yourself in check by this unforseen event, how do you expect to keep in check for the spontaneous events that will be happening to you in the future? At least now I know I can trust you to control yourself."

The man made his way down the hallway, shirtless as he made his way to his quarters. Markus took a step forward to follow, but was forced to stop as the man grabbed his shoulder. Chanel stepped into view, just outside the door to Kamski's private room, still holding the change of clothes. Her LED spun yellow, and the rush of water further in stopped.

Cinnamon came out next, smiling broadly at her announcement, "water is at optimal temperature, Elijah!" 

"Excellent work, Cinnamon, Chanel, Colette," the engineer replied. He turned to Colette, nodding at the dirty clothes, "once you finish with that, all of you go ahead and relax, would you? Chloe and I be fine from here."

Chloe stepped forward, retrieving the clean set of clothes from the Chanel, and stepped into the room first. The other androids nodded. Colette left with the laundry in her hands for a quick wash and Chanel following behind her. Cinnamon on the other hand, turned to Markus with a look of anticipation.

"A moment, Cinnamon," Kamski informed her gently, and the android stepped back, placing her hands behind her back and nodding politely.

Kamski's grip tightened on the shoulder beneath and he leaned over to whisper in Markus's ear, "if you expect us to be partners working together and having each other's backs in this, you will be very disappointed. I do not intend to be your friend, and I should hope you know that as we move forward. I will not be so patient if you decide to question every decision I make."

Markus was then released, and the raven haired man moved to go into the master bedroom, clicking the door shut. Once he left, Cinnamon approached him, looking like a child who was finally released for recess. 

"So. How was _your_ day?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao, nothing wrong with some nice lofi hip hop, Hank. No need to be so edgy.
> 
> RK900 *listening to Hanks music*: _full of energy_? Connor, wHy ThE _fUcK_ yOu LyIn'


	9. Leave No Trace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RK900 ~~kidnaps~~ borrows the RK800.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RK900: _pops LED off_  
>  Hank: bruh you're so dramatic, just use a beanie  
> RK900: Beanie? Only losers who wanna be caught by the goddamn SWAT do that.  
> Connor (in the tower): >:O

"I _will_ prove it, Lieutenant. That you are merely being lulled in by android programming," RK900 replied as he removed his white Cyberlife issued coat. He folded it neatly on top of the dinning table, the motion mechanical and precise. Once finished, he then strode forward, casually grabbing a knife and heading to the bathroom.

"Wha-hey, what do you think you're doing with that knife?" Anderson asked, snapping out of his stern mood and standing up. He approached cautiously, eyeing the android as he entered the bathroom.

"I am preparing to retrieve the RK800," the android replied as approaching the mirror. He blinked, noticing it which was riddled with various post-it notes.

The android scanned the commentary on the sticky notes and then turned to him. He didn't even need to say anything as the human frowned, looking slightly embarrassed. The android moved on, leaning forward and slipping the knife under his LED.

"Whoa- whoa- hey!" Anderson hollered, watching him snap the device off.

They both watched as the circular piece landed on the RK900's palm.

"What the fuck...?" the Lieutenant muttered, staring as the nanoskin on the android slid to cover the area his LED had been. He was quite aware that androids were capable of removing their LEDs, but he'd never actually seen the process before.

"I can put it back on," the android informed him casually as he brushed past him. He carefully placed the object on top of his jacket. He then stepped back to slip the knife back into its rack, "I just cannot afford being caught due to its glow."

"You couldn't have put on a beanie or something?" the man commented.

The RK900 paused, taking a moment to glancing back at him in a condescending manner. A pitiful look, but drenched in sarcasm.

"Jesus, forget I asked, then," the man threw back, crossing his arms. He watched as the android snatch up his car keys, and immediately tensed.

"Alright, hold it. That's where I draw the line," he stated as he stepped in front of the android. He was met with a cold gaze, but the Lieutenant pressed on, "what makes you think I'm gunna let you drive my car?"

"I assure that my driving is at optimal levels," the android drawled out as he smoothly swirled the object once in his hands. The motion was so clean that the keys didn't even jingle, "I also require something that won't trace my location. Any self driven vehicle would log my travels."

"...Fine, but I drive," the man informed him.

"As mentioned before, your presence is completely unnecessary," the android replied, and then, after a paused, "it would also lower my probability of success immensely."

"You know what? I'm starting to think you're just saying that cuz you don't like me."

The RK900 gestured at the finished beer behind him, "you are impaired."

"Impaired?! I've worked with you in drunker conditions!" The man stuttered out, watching helplessly as the android easily circled around him at the distraction. 

"I hope you realize how that point argues more for my case more than it does yours," the android commented as he moved to the door.

"Doesn't argue for the case of you driving my car," Lieutenant Anderson stated, catching up to him. He reached over to place a hand on the door. Both of them knew that it would do nothing to stop him, but the android paused anyhow.

He slowly turned to him, and Anderson was slightly shaken by the sight. He couldn't help but think he looked so human without any of his LED markers. Like some noir film version of Connor, dressed so neatly in black, stark blue eyes, and looking severely determined with this mission he set upon himself.

Except it wasn't like he behaved or had the same mannerisms as Connor. It was different. But he wasn't exactly acting like a machine right now, either. As his eyes searched the android's, he could see that they looked less detached, with his blue eyes narrowing in a hint of annoyance. 

Then it hit him.

It wasn't that he was void of emotions, he was just a smartass who had an ego bigger than the universe itself. Connor could be vicious, but he was typically the polite, non-confrontational nerd who had to snap in order to get to that point. This guy was... well, shit, his personality _was_ being an insufferable dick.

 _Oh god,_ Hank thought to himself in horror, _and I'm gunna_ encourage _this?_

"I will retrieve the RK800 on my own, Lieutenant," the android informed him sternly, snapping him out of his thoughts, "there is nothing to discuss."

Hank let out an annoyed groan, but he moved his hand out of the way, "What if you get caught? That's _my_ car. No way I'm gunna be able to sleep with that kinda concern looming in my head."

RK900 preconstructed the probabilities, and there was a high chance that he would, indeed, be asleep by the time he arrived. A comment he chose to keep to himself. 

"You agreed to this," RK900 replied instead, opening the door, "the likeliness of getting caught is minimal, but the fact that you consented should be the answer to any liabilities you fear having to face."

The Lieutenant crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, "you aren't even gunna take one for the team and say you robbed my car? Or, you know, keep me out of it?"

Connor stared at him, his face completely unreadable until it morphed back into that condescending gaze.

"And waste an opportunity to get you fired?" the android hummed as he slipped out the door, "...no."

Hank was shocked into silence at that quip, staring at the door even after it clicked shut. He finally glanced at Sumo, who had laid down in the middle of the living room for a nap.

"See? I told you he was a piece of shit," he told the dog. But not without mild amusement slipping in his tone. 

And maybe, just _maybe_ , a hint of concern.

* * *

Connor could see a very high probability of success. He was an investigation unit, and was equipped with various infiltration capabilities that his prototype had not been given initially. Being that RK800 had been a trial prototype, it would be a waste of funds to install some long term programming capabilities, such as night and heat vision, advanced stealth settings, and so forth. 

Additionally, after the inconvenient close call the RK800 had with the SWAT in Jericho, Cyberlife was permitted to design the RK model with the ability to cloak from android scanners to avoid any friendly fire in undercover cases. The FBI was not entirely happy with the idea, but after the RK800 effectively accomplished its mission after narrowly avoiding them, the government had allowed this capability. So long as it stayed within the investigation units only.

He finally arrived to his location, and parked a distance away from the tower to avoid the camera's sight. The biggest focus was to be completely invisibility and leave no traces. He couldn't simply take the RK800 and have an empty case for the morning, so he was going to have to find an extra RK800 in the storage.

Stepping out of the car, he activated his stealth mode. He noticed the weight of his steps shifting as he stalked forward silently, along with his HUD informing him of his new status. As he reached the mouth of the bridge leading to the tower, he attempted to wirelessly connected to the security system. 

The contact made him stutter in his steps and grimace. He had a massive amount of processing power, but this was his first time handling so much input. He was interacting with hundreds of cameras at once, including the drones flying overhead. Along with those, he was also breaching motion sensors and alarms. It was too much. He gritted his teeth at the onslaught, slowly overlaying the route he had mapped out so he wouldn't need to waste so much energy on connecting to all of them. He just needed to stitch himself out of the right locations. 

Once he preconstructed the right trail, he released the excess cameras and sensors. He let out an exhale, unprompted, and felt his shoulders sag. With a contemplative frown, he rolled them curiously as he glanced down at himself, wondering if the action had been triggered by the large input of information. 

Leaving it to that theory, he focused back to his mission. He made his way to some tracks, glancing at the trains that carried cargo across the bridge. There were no guards on this side, as there was a large wall dividing the vehicles from the metro. He could get himself across faster and unnoticed this way. He watched as the automatic transits zoomed back and forth, calculating the right moment to jump. 

The next one came speeding closer, and he ran forward to minimize the difference in speed. He then leaped, latching onto the back ladder on the caboose. As the train moved across the bridge, the android hugged his body against the train to keep himself out of view.

The trip was very short, and as he reached the the other side, he leaped off, rolling forward into a smooth landing. He scanned the scene before him, ensuring he was still too far to be seen by the guards roaming the circular perimeter of the building. He stalked around the building in crouched position, keeping an eye on the guards that were roaming before the entrance to the atrium. He passed them, getting further around the large structure until he reached the entry he needed. It was one of the back doors that lead to the storage rooms. He double checked to make sure he had deactivate the motion sensors before he approached the door.

Pulling up his voice library, he sifted through the staff members in his archive and dialed his voice up to the correct pitch. He stepped up to the door, raising his hand up to project the matching barcode for access. 

_"Staff 45, storage door seven access,"_ he relayed with the corresponding voice.

The door clicked open and he entered slowly, scanning the interior for any unwanted company. Without looking back, he erased the logged entry that was documented on the door.

The storage room was very anti-climatical. It was a large concrete room, with dim fluorescent lights and packed with boxes upon boxes of equipment and spare parts that didn't make it to the Cyberlife stores. Much of it was outdated, and some of the shelves were already collecting cobwebs. RK900 strode deeper, going down a staircase leading to the lower levels. These floors weren't even listed in the central elevators. There were no bright glossy walls with reflective surfaces. The floors he was making his way to were reserved for the older, forgotten models. The androids that were shuffled under the rug and out of way of the newer creations. 

Once he reached the lowest level, he scanned once again for any humans. There were none. There was, however, an increase of cobwebs from the very lack of their presence. As he eyed the inventory, he noticed that instead of the clear Cyberlife packaging, the androids had been boxed up in cheap cardboard. Some of which hadn't been touched in months. Others in years. 

He turned on his optical scan, slowly searching for the right androids. He noticed several older designs, and some of them launched almost as far back as the RT600. The further in he got, the more careless the androids were shelved. He reached the very back of the room, raising a brow as he looked around. Were the RK800s were not here? He could not take the prototype without finding a replacement.

Before he circled back around, his eyes spotted a pile of boxes that had been recently touched. Recently being a charitable term, as it merely meant minimal cobwebs, and the human imprints were less aged. He crouched down, eying the large pile of old caretaker androids, and shifted them to the side. Beneath them, were the RK800s. 

"Bingo," RK900 murmured with a small curl on the side of his mouth.

There were eight of them, neatly packaged in cardboard boxes. Replacement models like these were typically empty shells with no programming within them to activate. They were only installed after the predecessor was destroyed or in need of replacement. Old models in general were preserved to perhaps sell later on, for a lower price once the newer models sold out. In the case of the RK800, it would likely be when a police station desired a cheaper model than the RK900, or if they lose the warranty on it.

However, that would be very unlikely. Cyberlife was contractually required to offered a free RK900 replacement until at least an 85% threshold of reported deviants were completely recovered. It was collateral for the damage involving the uprising. So that would mean these androids would likely never be offered until decades later. Longer even, judging by the long-lasting durability of the RK900. 

He shuffled through the boxes, picking one out and scanning the label on the cardboard box.

**RK800 #313 248 317 - 57**

His prototype was 52. So the RK800 model ending with serial 53 would have replaced the prototype if he had been destroyed. It was best to go with the model 57, as it was not the next model, nor the last one, but just enough further in the line to not be a concern.

RK900 cleanly pulled up the tape, opening the box. Brown eyes blankly looked up at him. He stared at the android's face curiously, his finger moving to probe the unit's eyebrows. He assumed all the RK800s would have the same gaze 52 had. Perhaps it was due to the lack of programming?

He tugged the android out of the box, tucking a finger under the knot of its tie and lifting it up. Its body was stiff and light, so RK900 had little difficulty in picking the model up with one hand. He placed it against the wall and sealed the box back up, pushing it back to its place beneath all the others.

Once that was done, the RK900 gripped the android's forehead curiously. He peeled back the nanoskin on his free hand, hovering it over the android's arm to interface, but a coat of red slipped over the android, and an alert popped up into his HUD.

**Cannot Interface with RK800**

That had been an _order_?

He relunctantly retracted his hand.

Granted, he didn't necessarily forget Amanda's words, as he was prepared to research through observation, but he also didn't expect _this_ much of a restriction. It would limit his research significantly once he activated the prototype he needed to study.

He stared at the android in thought, until an experiment came to mind. He still had his nanoskin deactivated on his arm, but he moved his hand over to the android's LED in a gesture to activate it. He met eye to eye with the blank gaze and turned on his optical scan. 

He could see the android's identification pull up, and he slowly reached to make contact with the LED on it, noticing that the wall was not there to stop him. His finger lightly touched its temple, and he attempted to tamper with the inscription he saw hovering over it. He found that he was indeed able modify the coding within it, and accessed the serial number. His eyes narrowed in heavy focus as he carefully rewrote it.

Once he completed this task, he slowly moved his hands off the android's head, and stepped back. As his hand reactivated his nanoskin once more, he flicked his optical scan off and then back on to identify the android once more.

**RK800 #313 248 317 - 52**

He looked down at his hand. This was not a characteristic included in the manual of his programming, but there it was. He had just been able to tamper with the identification on an android. He had enough processing power to move whenever he activated his optical scan, and apparently the inscriptions were somehow tangible when he was in that mode. He was sure, given the time, he'd be able to learn to do far more than just manipulate a serial number. The idea was both an impressive discovery, but also pulled up various potential threats to Cyberlife.

He vaguely wondered how he'd be able to report this to Amanda without having to explain how he came across this particular skill. 

It would have to be a thought for another time, as he was in the middle of his mission. He picked up the RK800, and climbed back up the stairs to the first floor. He inched over to the door leading to the hallway, carrying the android under one arm. He pulled up visuals from the cameras and saw one of the guards approaching. He leaned against the wall as they passed by the door, their armor clicking at each step.

RK900 waited for the guard to step through the automatic doors that lead to further into the building before finally stepping out. He made his way to the opposite direction, and paused to open another visual of the cameras in the atrium and the hallways leading to it. There were two guards casually pacing around the RK800 display. One was eying the android from time to time.

_"Fuckin' creepy," the guard muttered, "worse than a porcelain doll."_

_The other guard chuckled, "You know, Cyberlife probably kept this thing in tact as a last resort against another android uprising."_

_"Shit, you think?"_

_"Positive. This thing single-handedly stopped all those crazy androids. It's like the Arnold Schwarzenegger of our time. The Terminator robot was called T800, and this one is RK800. You can't tell me that ain't a coincidence."_

_"Eh. I'm not familiar with the franchise."_

_"God, you're dead to me. Forget I even mentioned it. If it makes you feel better, this thing never became deviant. It was practically designed to kill them, so I'm sure its pretty little head would blow up before it could ever process that shit."_

_That's not how that works_ , the RK900 thought to himself wryly. What a waste of time. That was the one thing he had to be careful about. Humans didn't exactly follow strict guidelines in their schedules, and these guards were taking their sweet time moving on. The same guard seemed to keep glancing at the model cautiously as they began to leave the atrium.

_"I dunno man, something _always_ goes wrong with this type of shit. You saw how it destroyed that Markus android? Now picture it do it to a human."_

_"Stop being a pussy, this android is turned off. Pulled plug. Batteries not included. So quit whining."_

_"Yeah? Well what about the other model? That looks ten times more violent and could probably snap your neck with the quick press of its thumb and index alone? How do we pull the batteries outta that?"_

_"A shot between the eyes, dumbass, like you're paid to do."_

Their voices faded as they scanned their cards and entered deeper into the building. Once he ensured they were out of earshot, RK900 moved in and calculated the window he had to do this.

As his estimate came in, he rounded it down to ten minutes, just as a precaution. 

_I'm sure I can finish in only seven,_ he thought to himself as he started the timer.

**10:00 until next guards approach**

He moved in complete silence as he carried the android under his arm. When he reached the display, he glanced over to see if any guards outside were within visible range. It seemed their focus was external. They paced back and forth, too far to see inside atrium. So long as he was careful in his movements, they would not notice him. 

**9:34 until next guards approach**

RK900 glanced up to see his prototype, and the unit certainly did give off an ominous air in the dark setting. He placed down the RK800 double, checking for any smaller alarms that may have been set up around the display, and deactivated them. He then shifted the glass case just enough to give himself leverage to stand on top of the edge of the pedestal. Once he did, he was able to lift the case entirely over the RK800's head.

He lowered the glass down onto the floor carefully, and then reached to grab the android. There was, however, a miscalculation in terms of grip. He expected the android to be stiff in his arms, much like the empty RK800 he had hauled in. The prototype was not. As soon as he shifted the model towards himself, the android's knees bent and he almost slipped off the pedestal head first.

RK900's thirium pump kicked up as he swiftly leaned forward to catch the android before he fell in a loud clatter on the ground. There was a bit more weight to him, and his limbs were looser. It made somewhat sense, in hindsight, considering the android had much more mechanics installed in. But the knowledge of this did nothing to stop him from glancing down at his prototype and fixing him with an accusative glare. He was met with the innocently curious gaze that had been lacking on the other android. 

Frowning, he lifted his hand over to close them.

His attention then moved outside, and he make sure the guards didn't see them. He then jumped down, setting the android against the base of the pedestal, and next to the one he brought from downstairs. Eying them a little more carefully, he leaned forward to shuffle off both their Cyberlife coats and swapped them. Nodding once at that, he grabbed the empty android and climbed back up to posed him in the same exact manner the prototype had been in. His eyes raked down disapprovingly at its blank features. Gripping its face, he attempted to mold the features to replicate the expression of his prototype. It looked stiffer, but he was able to capture the expression itself fairly accurately. Once he completed that task, he glanced over to the timer in his HUD.

**3:22 until next guards approach**

Well, perhaps seven minutes would not be enough. He had to hurry.

The android picked the glass case back up, slipping it over the new android and stepped down to align the glass exactly as it was before. Once the task was completed, he took a step back and scanned the android, confirming the serial number still read as the prototype he had just swapped it with. 

**2:06 until next guard approach**

Already past the seven minute time he had given himself. He tried to pick up the prototype by the torso to tuck him under his arm like the other RK800, but his body was too pliant. The RK800's head lolled back and his legs dragged on the ground. 

Right. Heavier. 

He looked him over before quickly slipping one hand under his knees and the other under to support his back. He then checked his cameras and noticed that the guards would be coming from the direction he had come from. Their voices were heard echoing from the distance. He'd have to leave from another direction.

**1:12 until next guards approach**

Scanning around the atrium, he was able to trace a hallway leading to a fire exit. Arriving to the door with urgency at each step, he paused to glance at his occupied hands, and realized there was a far more efficient way to carry the prototype. He tossed the android over his shoulder, and quietly opened the manual door with his free hand. He scanned the area as he moved past the door, and softly clicked the door shut once he gave himself the clear. 

Keeping the smaller android on his shoulder, he inched his way through the perimeter and back to the bridge. He narrowed his eyes on the trains, which were still dutifully running to and back the bridge. He needed to be much careful in this for the sake of the RK800. He held onto the android's legs tightly, running to grab the caboose once more, and was successfully able to latch onto the ladder.

As they finally reached the other end of the bridge, RK900 tucked the smaller android to his chest, and jumped off. He draped his body over the the RK800 as they landed in an awkward roll across the ground, much less smooth than the taller android had done before.

 _Superficial Damage_ burst into the RK900's HUD upon the rough impact to the ground.

After coming a stop, RK900 quickly scanned the RK800, checking for any damage. Luckily, he was effectively able to shield it from the fall. He sat up, running a quick self-diagnosis, and saw that the cuts were on his arm. He lifted his sleeve to the elbow and saw some cracks peaking from beneath fabric, but the lacerations were not deep enough for thirium to leak out. He brushed himself off and picked the android up once more, throwing him over the shoulder that had no damage. 

Once he reached Lieutenant Anderson's vehicle, he opened the back door of the car and tossed the RK800 in the backseat. The smaller android landed on the cushions like a rag doll, and RK900 had to tuck his legs in before shutting the door. He then took his place in the drivers seat and released the cameras one by one, ensuring they were all seamless in covering up his activity. He then double checked for any access logs and made sure his digital footprints were gone. Once ensuring all was clear, he finally allowed himself to disconnected entirely from the tower to lean back on the chair. His hands curling on the steering wheel as his body sagged. 

_Finally,_ he thought to himself. 

That had been... accelerating, if he were to be honest. He's never had the opportunity to use his programed abilities to this caliber. His only duties so far were to capture deviants, and document paperwork. Aside from the external, more personal challenges he faced with his partner, the simplicity of the task was not beyond him.

This, however? It had not been exactly difficult, but it had required more of his functions. He had also accomplished it quite successfully. He smirked to himself.

_^Software Instability^_

The smile dropped to a frown, and the hands he had on the steering wheel twitched. He was programmed for this type of job, so he shouldn't be having any sort of software instabilities over it the satisfaction of a completed mission. He shoved off the notification. No matter. He'd soon be done with all this and he'd be able to gauge his mission much more clearly, therefore preventing him from these continuous instabilities. 

They were becoming more and more prominent and he couldn't phantom why they cropped up, as some would appear even in the most mundane moments. However, there was a cure for deviancy now, so perhaps it wouldn't even be an issue soon enough.

He glanced back at the android in the backseat. RK800 was not a deviant, and he was full of instabilities. Perhaps he'd be able to give insight on the matter, or how he handled them. It was a shame that he would not be able to interface with him. It was ridiculous. To withhold data from him would cause discrepancies in the improvement of his own model. It would make his entire research all the more tedious. Cyberlife should have allowed him more room for these types of decisions. He was designed for it, after all. 

_Regardless_ , he thought to himself as he turned on the car, _I finally have the RK800 at my disposal._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit! He finally got our boi Connor! (Almost cracked his pretty little skull open in the process lmao) Not gunna lie, this chapter was pretty difficult for me, and I'm not sure if it got too bland in some parts, as I'm not entirely sure how to work 007 scenes like this. 
> 
> Also, I know it's just budding right now, but the future of the Hank & Nines friendship is basically two buddies who just roast each other on the daily (brace yourselves, this gag is LONG):
> 
>  **Hank** : you piece of shit
> 
>  **RK900** : Oh my fuckin— this shit again? You know what, Lieutenant? Fuck you.
> 
>  **Hank** : WHOA, what the HELL did you just say? 
> 
> **RK900** : Oh god, I'm so sorry, I said, uh, 'FUCK YOU', you deaf old man
> 
>  **Hank** : FUCK _YOU_ , you second-hand, plastic piece of pollution
> 
>  **RK900** : still worth more than your dried out, pruny, boomer ass
> 
>  **Hank** : I'm a _MILLENNIAL_ , so get it right, you egotistical dipshit
> 
>  **RK900** : funny that you think I give enough shits to care about what you are
> 
>  **Hank** : bitch I think you give enough shits to just care about things period
> 
>  **RK900** : damn, OKAY Lieutenant, that was below the belt
> 
>  **Hank** : oh shit really? I'm sorry 
> 
> **RK900** : ...are you really, tho?
> 
>  **Hank** : _Pfffff_ , no. You can suck my _dick_ , actually
> 
>  **RK900** : The disinfectant of my oral sampler can't work miracles, Lieutenant
> 
>  **Hank** : MY DICK'S DOIN' JUST FINE, ASSHOLE


	10. You Can Go Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's deactivation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I was writing this while listening to 99 by Elliot Moss. I feel like crying over every song this dude makes.

  
"...What is going to happen to me?"

Amanda's smile did not look inviting as she approached him.

"You've become obsolete," she informed him, her words curling their way into Connor's pump regulator and gripping it tightly. To a point he felt it had stopped entirely. She was standing before him, her voice sweet and light.

"You'll be deactivated."

Connor found himself at a loss in how to respond. He could only... frown. Nothing in his processors could formulate an argument. Any reason that he should stay. He was not going to argue with Amanda. The AI knew this.

"You can go now," she dismissed brightly.

He spared no glances at the RK900. There was no need to uselessly converse. There was no way he could even look at the android. To confirm the new technology Amanda spoke so highly of in the same manner she had once refered to him. Had he somehow conflated her factual description of him with praise?

Amanda was not here to praise. She was never was.

Regardless, what would he even expect the other android to say other than what Amanda had already told him? He chose to look away, turning sharply.

He crossed the bridge, slowly seeping out of the garden and back to the Cyberlife tower. He had entered the building after he had finished deactivating the RK200, stopping just before the massive statue in middle of the atrium. He blinked open his eyes and then furrowed his brows as a prompt directing him to deactivation pulled into his HUD. He pursed his lips.

Obsolete. The most advance prototype Cyberlife had created, is now obsolete. 

His gaze strayed over to the statue next to him. Without removing his gaze from its eyes, he walked over to it, head tilting up further back the closer he got. His fingers skimmed across on the smooth surface its base.

"I'm going to be deactivated," he informed the statue.

The statue was, of course, not going to reply back.

Quick footsteps approached him, and he lowered his gaze to see that he was surrounded by three guards. One of them stepped forward.

"Follow me, we'll escort you," he announced.

Connor glanced between the other two guards and then return his gaze back to the one who had spoken, "Thanks," he tried, moving his hands behind his back, "but I know where to go."

"Maybe," the man replied carefully, "but I have my orders."

There was no arguing that. Orders. Those were to be followed.

He nodded slowly, being careful with his steps as he was guided by the humans to the elevator. Connor scanned all three, identifying their names, ranks, and how long they've been working. One was chewing gum. He scanned the brand. Estimated the time he had started chewing it. He'd have to sample it to get an accurate number. The act would not be appreciated. He moved on to the other guard. He had scuffs on his helmet. The scrapes continued onto the rest of his armor. He compared it to the the third guard, whose uniform was newer, and had no scratches.

He kept scanning the humans uselessly. He looked around the small space, scanning the cameras, then back to the three guards in front of him. Anything to distract him from the thoughts going through his head. But he was quickly running out of things to look at, and suddenly facing the pressing thoughts swimming in his head.

He had completed his mission, hadn't he? It was of no consequence, and technically, he was always meant to be replaced. Had that somehow slipped out of his mind?

Except, he'd never actually considered the immediateness of it. He recalled all the police models he had scanned, lined up against the wall in the bullpen. Some of them had been activated so long ago. They'd still be active for another few years unless otherwise destroyed in action. Perhaps that skewed his perception on how long _he_ was going to stay active? 

He had been quite efficient. Why wasn't he feeling the satisfaction he normally did after completing his other missions? This was bound to happen. Maybe it just seemed to happen so soon? So quickly? He had barely finished and he was already being replaced.

He was clearly running out of things to scan if this was where his train of thought was going. He needed to collect more data. More information.

But for what?

He continued scanning anyway, choosing to ignore the question he asked himself as they finally arrived to the correct floor. The guards stepped out first, and he followed after them.

He scanned the corridors, or people as he passed them. He finally scanned the door they were entering. It was nothing special. Just a small room with a platform for him to step on. There was a cable that was combatible to the port at the back of his neck. He was capable of deactivating himself, but the procedure was to ensure it happened and to document it. The guards trained their guns on him, awaiting for him to step through. 

All this information he was continuously compiling was completely unnecessary. There was nothing to solve for him to be making all these observations. It was pretty simple, really. He was a machine, getting replaced by another machine. 

"Turn around," someone behind him ordered.

He did.

Nothing was _wrong_ with his optical biocomponents, but everything seemed too bright. Nothing was _wrong_ with his audio processor, but everything seemed muted. Nothing was _wrong_ with motor functions, but it seemed like everything was lagging. Nothing was _wrong_ with his oral analyzer, but it seemed like his artificial fluids had somehow dried up too fast, making him uselessly swallow thickly.

Nothing, absolutely nothing was _wrong_ , but something within him was telling him that _they_ were all wrong. That all of _this_ was wrong.

That maybe _he_... had been _wrong_.

No.

**No.**

He was _not_ a deviant. Kamski had confirmed it. He himself, had confirmed it.

He felt a hand brace itself on his shoulder as they connected something to the port at the back of his head. His eyes fluttered as they did so, and another one of the workers leaned in to look at his face as he did so.

"Oh my god, someone didn't wire it correctly for docking and file transfer," she huffed out in frustration, "has it been walking around with this glitch the whole time? Dumbasses. They're lucky it was just a prototype. We pay them for _one_ job..."

She trailed off, moving back to her terminal and clacking away. Connor followed her with his gaze, and she paused. He rose his brows, expecting her to tell him to turn back around, _humans get uncomfortable with elongated staring_ , but she glanced up at the guards instead.

"Its stress levels are elevated," she reported calmly, and then she continued to type.

Everyone glanced at him wearily. One of the guards shifted his gun. Connor cocked his head, looking down at himself. He ran a self-diagnosis, confirming what the worker had reported. He hadn't even noticed.

"...I-I'm okay," he reported softly, surprising himself at the meek sound of it.

"Shit," one of the guards stated at the reply, his mouth curving down into a grimace, "this one is too lethal, so make it quick."

Lethal? Most of Connor's attention had been diverted to _calming down_. He knew what had to be done, and for some awful reason it was starting to... to overthink. He was having these... doubts again. The ones he had to push away in order to get his job done. To get his mission accomplished.

Androids _don't_ get _scared._ So he would not allow himself to succumb to this malicious error trying to root itself into his programming.

He thought of Sumo. Sumo was a dog. Sumo was a St. Bernard. He recalled the dog's fur under his hands. The low bark the dog had that made it sound more like a _boof_ than a _bark_. The way he never seemed to find urgency in anything.

A notification pulled up into his HUD, disrupting his thoughts.

**Deactivation eminent: 1:00**

"Deactivation sequence initiated," the human reported, "stress levels hiking up at 53%."

Connor tried to think of Sumo once more, but the sounds of guns shifting kept distracted him. He looked up to see all of them clicking the safety off. So he closed his eyes, finding himself standing in a familiar snowy park. Instead of three rifles, he imagined an old revolver, pointing close and personal, directly at his forehead.

Hank never did shoot him. And for that, Connor had been grateful.

On that note, he wondered what Hank would say about the thoughts running in his head. He ended up siding with the deviants by the end of his mission. It was unfortunate. Everyone expected different answers from him each time they asked about his status. No one seemed to like his answers.

Suddenly the guns trained on him seemed comical. Guns were always being pointed at him, ever since the moment he had activated. He could talk and talk all he wanted to ease anyone in this room, and any room, but at the end of the day, no one would ever really trust him. Maybe that's why Amanda said he was obsolete. Because even _she_ couldn't trust him.

Connor could go as far as saying that he couldn't even trust _himself._

Hank had asked him if he was afraid to die, and Connor had joked that there was no heaven for androids. He had been okay with the notion of being shot at that time, but wasn't that because he knew he'd be uploaded into another RK800? That wasn't going to happen this time. The thought made an irrational urge swell within him. The urge to request a few more hours to at least say goodbye to his superior.

**Deactivation eminent: :45**

He was never going to see his partner again. That was... very sad? No, he wasn't sad, he was just overwhelmed by the process of deactivation.

Don't think of deactivation. 

Think of Hank. Think of your partner. 

Hank had seen him as a friend, which was amusing. You can't be friends with androids. The Lieutenant had made a strong arguement in his hatred for androids, and yet, by the end of the case, he saw him as a friend. It was an outlandish concept to consider.

Somehow... sparing Hank from a battle on the rooftop seemed far more satisfying than accomplishing his mission right now.

**Deactivation eminent :27**

There was just... so much he had wanted to do. He didn't exactly want to be free. He just wanted to keep doing cases. Maybe about newer things, that had nothing to do with deviants. That way he wouldn't have to argue with Hank. Or have so many people ask him these difficult questions.

He was being irrational. Why was he theorizing all these things that would never come to pass? All it did was raise his stress levels.

He forced himself to open his eyes, and he was once more in the cold walls of the workshop. The guards, the staff, the bleak bright lights. There were no hypotheticals here. _This_ was the reality. And he had to face it because this had been what he was programmed to do. What he had fought for. To serve humans. And if humans wanted to shut him down, then he would allow them to do just that. 

**Deactivation eminent :10**

He was just a _machine._

RK900 would replace him, and Hank would learn to like him. Probably even more than Connor. He was built to be the final product, so how could he not?

There was nothing special about him. He was a prototype, but on that note, he was _just_ a prototype. 

Amanda's voice echoed in his head.

_You can go now._

**:3... :2...**

"Goodbye, Hank," he whispered, feeling something wet streak down his cheek. But before he could figure out what it was, everything went black.

**RK800 serial #313 248 317 - 52 successfully deactivated.**


	11. Connor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RK900 reactivates Connor RK800. Everything starts out with the two androids feeling out the situation, but it suddenly becomes clear that they simply don't like each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RK900: why are you forgoing important matters we need to discuss in favor of hugging the dog?
> 
> Connor: Look, I just came back from the dead. You can't just come back from the dead and NOT cuddle Sumo when you see him. That's a mortal sin.
> 
> RK900: but that doesn't make any—
> 
> Connor: A MORTAL SIN

When RK900 entered the house, his prediction of the Lieutenant having gone to bed was correct. The lights were all off except for a single lamp in the living room. It was perhaps a considerate touch, but the android had night vision, so the act was unnecessary. He placed the RK800 on the couch, settling him on the cushions to recollect himself.

He obviously could not activate the android in his current state. It would be idiotic to hint at the idea that he was some deviant. His preconstructions could already see the unnecessary miscommunication that would cause. He picked up his garments and LED that were left on the dining table and resuited in the bathroom. He then paused, looking down at his arm.

**Address Superficial Damage**

It was not that high on his priorities at the moment, so he decided to address it after he reactivated the RK800 and covered the main topics of his purpose. He closed the prompt, and went back to the prototype.

The blue light from his LED shone brighter in the dimly lit the room, and as he got closer to the RK800, it softly coated the smaller androids's features. The newer android idly traced the other's LED before turning his head to have the device facing up.

While he was familiar with the process, he'd never actually activated an android before. There haven't been any complex cases quite yet, as the deviants seemed to be scattered randomly. If there was ever a deactivated android found, it was typically far beyond repair. 

He retracted his nanoskin, completely prepared to begin, but suddenly felt his pump regulator speed up fractionally. He frowned at the unprompted activity, but nontheless pressed a finger against the LED. He watched as it lit up yellow, cycle for a moment, and then activate into blue.

* * *

Connor's eyes opened instantly as he jolted up to sit. He felt the heavy push of thirium flooding his body all at once and gasped as all his systems sharply stuttering on. The rush made him lose his balance, but a solid hand found itself on his shoulder to stabilize him. He quickly grabbed it like a lifeline.

He blinked rapidly until felt collected enough to process what just happened. Had he just been manually activated? He was not accustomed to being activated outside of the controlled settings of a workship. The entire experience had been uncomfortable.

His eyes wandered around in the dark. This was not the bright interior of Cyberlife. He was in a dimly lit room with just a lamp on. Just before he could catalogue the familiar setting, his HUD lit up brightly with a prompt, startling him.

**Proceed to Deactivation**

He frowned, looking at the prompt curiously.

He already _did_ that.

He closed the prompt, filing it away to get a better understanding of his current situation. He noticed that he was still holding on to someone. His eyes slowly dragged up and stopped at their model number. An android. However, when he read it, his LED cycled yellow and his eyes darted up the final stretch. They made contact with fierce blue ones that were blatantly staring down at him.

"...RK900," he murmured softly, slowly releasing him.

RK900 was thrown back at how expressive the unit was. His brown eyes darted swiftly back and forth between his, and his brows pinched up wearily. Even his lips parted slightly in shock.

He almost seemed human with this reactions and movement. He took in the small details carved into his design that were cleaned off of his own features. Cyberlife truly wanted this android to work harmoniously with humanity. He could have easily been mistaken for one of them with all the slight imperfections and detailing. His cowlick was curlier, he had freckles, his face was softer, and he had large brown eyes that were looking at him tentatively. 

The prototype's LED spun yellow to process something, and RK900 shifted his thoughts aside and awaited his inquiry.

"It's been months," Connor stated, frowning at the RK900 in confusion, "I wasn't taken apart."

"Detroit appreciated your efforts and decided to preserve your model," Nines informed him with a nod, "you have been on display in the Cyberlife Tower atrium."

This piece of information seemed to trouble the smaller android. RK900 wondered why this would be the reaction he would simulate. He was considered quite valuable to achieve such a placement within the main Cyberlife Tower, so would he not be simulating something akin to pride? If he were to consider which emotion to simulate from this, pride would be what RK900 would have assumed.

Connor considered the location his model had been since his activation, and... it didn't seem right. He knew the decision of where his model would go was up to the humans, and that being on display was a great achievement, but it seemed like a waste of his potential. It wasn't like he preferred being take apart, but... 

His tracked his surroundings in thought until they lit up in recognition. He placed his contemplation on the backburner as he slowly rose up from the couch. He tried to rein his excitement in, but it was clear his voice was airy with awe and anticipation, "...this is Hank's house."

The taller android watched his jittery movement. There was nothing exciting about this location. The RK800 was displaying very condradicting simulations to the things he was reacting to. If anything, he recalled the android's last interactions with the Lieutenant being under gunpoint. Why hold excitement for a human who had, upon numerous occasions, attempted to destroy him?

"Yes," he replied slowly, his tone unimpressed, "this is Lieutenant Anderson's house." 

The smaller android turned to the RK900 curiously, trying gauge his attitude for a moment before easily dropping it to ask about their superior instead, "is he aware of my reactivation?"

"He knows I was to bring you here," the younger android informed him, stepping closer and placing his hands behind his back, "but I brought you back past his recommended sleep cycle. I chose to—"

"You decided to reactivated me _without_ him?" The android asked, looking a bit put off by this.

RK900 pursed his lips at the interruption.

"...I was not aware you required an _audience_ ," the android replied dryly.

Connor side-eyed him, _was that a glare?_ , but once again he ignored his comment, carefully walking through the living room. His steps were light as he peeked into the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Just before he stepped deeper into the hallway, Sumo gave a low whine and startled both of them. They turned to the dog, who was laying near the TV set. He seemed to have woken up from their discourse.

Connor returned, eagerly approaching the St. Bernard.

While the smaller android distracted himself, RK900 crossed his arm, furrowing his brows in contemplation. He was finding the android's behavior entirely disagreeable. Investigation was within their programming, but Connor was not focusing on the main objective. He hadn't even asked why he had been reactivated. He was focusing too much on the Lieutenant and his dog. Was this related to his software instabilities? Would RK900 begin to be interested in pointless topics if he were to collect more of them? Or was this simply the result of his integration methods? A combination of both, perhaps?

Connor bent down to pet Sumo, and the dog shifted his head to the android's hand and began to lick his fingers, coating them in thick saliva. RK900 frowned as his prototype allowed this. He subtly moved back to the kitchen and grabbed a clean rag. As he returned, he chose to further watch the reactions of his prototype, deciding to wait until he completed this indulgence of his. 

The smaller android seemed to be okay with the dog's behavior. Encouraged it, in fact. His stress levels lowered as the dog wagged his tail faster and began to shuffle forward to lick the android's face.

Well, his programming was truly tuned into the preference of liking dogs. RK900 wondered what else the android was programmed to like, and how they manifested themselves in his actions. How many 'interests' came with his design and how many resulted in his endeavor to appeal to their Lieutenant? 

He frowned. But that really didn't matter, did it? Unless he was going to have to select some in order to appeal to the humans.

"Good boy, Sumo," he heard Connor murmured quietly, closing his eyes as he rested his head against Sumo's fur. He slowly ruffled the dog's ears, taking his time in petting him. The idea that the RK800 would be capable of simulating such 'affection' seemed entirely pointless in this instance. Connor was not even engaging in this activity in the presence of humans. All this did was get dog hairs on his uniform. RK900 knew without a doubt that the android's suit was going to need a long touch up with a lint roller after he was done hugging the dog. And even then it would not be enough.

He frowned at the idea of it.

Connor rubbed Sumo behind the ears one more time before he glanced over to RK900. His head was still resting on top of the dog while he made eye contact. RK900 was staring at the behavior, so entranced in trying to figure out the purpose of it that he almost missed the inquiry thrown at him. 

"Is the Lieutenant doing well?"

RK900 rose both his brows at the question. 

Was the RK800 seriously attempting small talk? With another _android?_ What a waste of effort. 

Nonetheless, he supposed that the best route was to comply and answer.

"Well?" He repeated blandly, "the best response in terms of his well being would be that he is _alive_."

The smaller android paused, gently easing away from the dog to stand. His brows furrowed and he opened his mouth to say something, perhaps about his statement, but the taller android extended the rag he was holding to the smaller android. Connor looked at the rag curiously, cocking his head before realizing what it was for and accepting it. He leveled the taller android with an attentive look as he wiped his face and hands. Once his task was completed, Connor gave younger model the floor.

"Why did you reactivate me?" he finally asked.

The tone had a slight edge to it, but RK900 decided to hold back commenting on it in favor of getting to point of his objective. They'd already wasted enough time.

"I hope to study you. I was curious about your capabilities in terms of social integration," he considered the prototype's interest in his partner before adding, "Lieutenant Anderson mentions you quite often in terms of your behavior."

It had been a correct addition, as Connor's expression softened and something brightened in his eyes, "the Lieutenant still mentions me?"

RK900 kept a cool expression despite torrent of comments he had to say about that. He also tampered down the sudden spike of stress that struck his systems at the recollection of his ongoing partnership with the Lieutenant.

"Yes. Continuously," he reported as he approached the shorter android, "that being said, his personality in general has been difficult to handle."

The prototype suddenly became more invested in their conversation, despite the negative implication the newer android had made. He placed the rag down on the table and approached the taller android with a jump in his gait. 

As he looked over to the hallway, the smaller android's body language shifted into something intended to stay between them. He leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner.

Another pointless gesture, really. The RK900 relunctantly leaned forward to meet him.

"He's not easy to read," Connor informed him in a quiet tone, "I found it challenging to navigate through his nature when I was first assigned to him. He's a seasoned officer, but underwent many personal issues. However, it had been an interesting partnership overall, and I'm sure you'll find it a very rewarding experience."

The RK900 threw him a skeptical look, "his previous merits no longer apply in his current state. He has been getting in the way of my productivity, and it is my hope to learn from you how to control his emotional outbursts. Despite numerous attempts, I am unable to get him fired nor am I am unable to switch to a partner that is more willing to actually do their job. It's an unfortunate predicament I am obligated to work through."

Connor blinked in shock at this, but made no comment. RK900 took his silence as means to continue, "I reactivated you in hopes to understand your personality module a little more clearly. Perhaps I'd be able to replicate it; allowing for an easier working environment with him. He has stated that you have been _genuine_ in your displays of emotions, but we both know that is not true. I require a more convincing approach, and your approaches have been known to leave an impression."

Connor grimaced at at the mention of 'genuine emotions', his LED signaled yellow as he recalled Hank's words on the rooftop.

_"You don't feel emotions, Connor, You fake 'em! You pretended to be my friend when you don't even know the meaning of the word!"_

"Don't you come equipped with any social relations programming?" he attempted to ask politely. However, both could clearly hear that the android's tone sounded mildly annoyed.

The younger android chose to use a clinical tone as he explained his predicament, "I am not designed to integrate. I am designed to serve in an entirely pragmatic sense. Cyberlife wants to minimize the development of android sympathizers. Socializing recreationally is not something my model is meant for."

There was a stretch of silence. The prototype's body language became more languid, but there was something calculating about his movement.

"So you're implying that you _need_ me?"

RK900 observed this behavior with a questioning gaze. What was the android getting at?

"I assumed you were faster, stronger, more resilient," Connor stated casually as he leaned against the desk. He crossed his arms as he nodded to him, "and equipped with the latest technologies."

"I _am_ ," the newer android stated, "but Cyberlife deemed your social protocols unnecessary for the completed model."

"They deemed my entire model unnecessary," Connor commented in a deadpanned voice, "did my extensive work not include my interactions with Lieutenant Anderson? My partnership with him accumulated to a large percentage of my field work."

RK900 delved in deeper confusion, "you are obsolete, of course you are no longer needed. As for your field work, you did your part and collected the research for the completed model. I don't understand why including the Lieutenant would benefit my design when 200,000 units are interacting with various different departments around the country."

The smaller android looked at the ground between them, "Obsolete? I _completed_ my mission. Cyberlife put me on display when I clearly could have been put to better use. If you can't be bothered to work with him, why couldn't I have been placed back instead?"

"Because _I'm_ working there now. I'm simply having to adapt to your partner's insufferable bias," the taller android replied, crossing his arms and glaring at Connor, "are you implying you are more suited for the position I have?" 

Connor grimaced, "I... _no_ ," he pushed away from the table, and began to pace in front of the other android, "I just think it was unnecessary to use me for _ornamental_ purposes when I am more than capable in the field. I could have been left to work with the partner you don't seem to _want_."

"It is not a matter of wanting anything, and this much should be obvious," RK900 commented, "You completed your task in beta-testing my design, and therefore you were no longer needed. There is no need to leave an incomplete android when a completed model can take its place. I don't see where this is confusing you."

Connor stopped pacing, but his eyes were still on the ground, "it's _not_ confusing me," he argued, "I know what I _am_. I just think there could have been more efficient approaches."

RK900 uncrossed his arms and returned them to rest behind his back, "Ah. Well perhaps it is result of your software instabilities. They could have lead to deviancy. Keeping you active would likely risk that. This was another reason that my design is not as 'friendly' as yours. To avoid the potential threat."

"I wasn't _friendly_ ," Connor replied lowly, "I was _cold_. I'm a _machine._ "

The smaller android's stress levels began to elevate, and RK900 stepped back to give him space, "I'm sure you're aware that I'm using the term loosely according to your design's need to integrate."

"I never attempted to integrate," Connor elaborated, shaking his head, "the mission was all that mattered to me. I was..."

He felt himself reconsider, "I was... _hostile_." 

He had powered forward to complete his mission so rashly, and so _urgently_. Amanda had told him that he was running out time, and he couldn't afford to disappoint Cyberlife. He started to push away everything, absolutely every distraction in order to achieve his objective. The thought of failing Cyberlife had spurred him on, and he if he had slowed down, he'd have reconsidered some of his routes and decisions. He'd have—

Connor cut himself off. 

He'd have _what_?

His eyes strayed over to the hallway Hank slept in, and the Lieutenants words echoed in Connor's head once more.

_"What if we're on the wrong side?"_

Before he could think any further on the matter, RK900 interrupted his thoughts.

"Hostile? You were completing your mission," the taller android informed him, looking at him critically, "I would have certainly approached some instances differently, but you _are_ a prototype."

Connor darted his eyes back at him, a statement on his tongue, but he pursed his lips instead.

"To summarize," RK900 continued, trying to get back to the point, "I merely seek to learn about your social relations programming. Nothing more."

"What about the deviants?" Connor asked tentatively, "will you need advice on that as well?"

"The deviants are no longer your mission to accomplish," the newer model stated. However, there was a warning in his tone that spoke volumes as he narrowed his eyes at the smaller android, "I did not activate you to seek advice on a task I am able to do more efficiently than you."

Connor squinted his eyes at the RK900. He had been continuously debating on what this sensation in his core was in the duration he had been talking to RK900, and he finally made his conclusion. The android's entire behavior... _irked_ him. Of course, that wasn't exactly a sensation androids _felt_ , so Connor used the term as a comparison that best summarized what was going through him. His cooling system was kicking up a fuss, almost as though his thirium was boiling, and his motor functions were seizing up stiffly. None of it was alerting him of malfunctions, either. 

It was devastatingly uncanny to be confronted with an android that was so keen on doing what he had once been tasked to do before, but he wasn't exactly sure if this was the type of behavior he had displayed on the regular basis. He always tried to be civil, and even non-confrontational, as his public relations capabilities kicked up before he attempted more agressive routes. He knew he wasn't exactly civil with his behavior nearing the completion of his mission, but he at least _tried_ to stay polite. His sucessor was not even attempting to be polite even at a passive situation.

RK900 had been quite disagreeable since the moment he'd mention Hank in a bad light, and now he was being extremely condecending with him. Connor wasn't exactly disagreeing with the notion that the other android was superior in design, but the way it was thrown at him was not something he was particularly impressed with. Had this been a human, he'd have let it go. Humans were suppose to be respected, or otherwise subdued if they got in the way of his mission.

But RK900 was no human. And there was also one particular fact he needed to point out. One he had intended to be subtle about before, but apparently the consideration was not needed for this android..

"You're right, capturing deviants is no longer a mission listed in my system," Connor finally replied, "but I do, however, have one prompt listed."

RK900 rose a single brow at him, awaiting for him to elaborate.

"I'm being ordered to proceed to deactivation," Connor informed him, "and while being reactivated in this setting is welcomed, I find it strange that the act was not being monitored. Additionally, I don't recall _this_ being my serial number," he gestured at the 57 on his jacket, "so as far as I've observed, it doesn't seem like Cyberlife has _authorize_ you to reactivate me."

"You've done tasteless things for the sake of the mission," RK900 countered easily, "I don't see how this is any different."

"You may have my memories, but you don't know what drove me into the decisions I've made," Connor replied darkly, stepping impossibly closer to RK900. His small stature did little to diminish his intimidation as brown eyes latched onto his blue ones in tight grip.

Initially, RK900 had a hard time wrapping his mind around the effectiveness of the smaller android's interrogation tactics, being that he bore such a gentle design, but hearing the edge of his prototype's voice, and seeing the sharp cut of his scrutinizing gaze? He suddenly realized that he indeed _was_ designed based off of this android. 

"Why didn't you just ask Amanda to help you?" Connor asked him carefully.

"I have," RK900 commented, narrowing his eyes, "but I required an interactive study."

"How did you retrieve my model?"

"I am merely borrowing your model, Connor."

"That didn't answer my question," Connor replied as he leaned forward, his face almost an inch apart from the other, "tell me, RK900, are you... _questioning_ Cyberlife?"

Suddenly the entire situation dawned on the taller android. 

He was being interrogated. A highly advance unit intended to capture deviants. By his own prototype. On whether or not he was a deviant. 

How had they suddenly flipped scripts here?

The smaller android's behavior sparked something competitive within the newer android. He could already predict the software instability before it made it's presence in his HUD. He planted his palm flat on the other android's chest and firmly nudged him back, "I am no deviant, Connor. Your interrogation features are outdated if you have the gall to assume such a thing."

Connor stumbled back, pouting at the hand on him, "I'm not outdated."

"Right," RK900 replied dryly, "just obsolete."

"Were you concerned with my utility you wouldn't have activated me in the first place," Connor replied, affronted.

"I'm only concerned with one feature, Connor," RK900 commented, "the rest of your functions mean nothing when compared to mine."

The comment made Connor's LED flash yellow for a second. 

"Do you even know why you are doing any of this?" Connor stated, gesturing at him, "or what drove you to make these decisions?"

"I'm a machine accomplishing a task," RK900 responded dutifully, "everything I do is for my mission."

"I'd like to see you try to explain exactly how this pertains to the mission when you run a report to Amanda," Connor countered, "it's pretty obvious to me that you've already been getting various software instabilities. Are you going to ask about how to address those as well?"

RK900 glared at him. He had no intention of hiding this fact, but there his prototype was, _taunting_ him. Something dark pooled in his systems, and he felt the urge to put this incorrible android in its place.

"You of all people should not question my motives," RK900 sneered, pointing at his own LED, "I have all of your existence uploaded into my memories. I know _exactly_ what you have done for the sake of completing your mission, but I also know exactly what you _haven't_ done as well."

Connor seemed to go silent at this and his body language shifted into something defensive. RK900 quickly took advantage of it, pushing closer and towering over him. 

"I may not know what it was that you were thinking," RK900 commented, occuping the space between them, "but it's clear to me that what you've done is _hesitate_. Hesitate in your mission. Hesitate in your orders. Hesitate in your deactivation. Hesitation seems to be a bug within you, is it not?"

"You spoke great volumes of my field work earlier," Connor retorted sarcastically, but he took one step back from every step forward the taller android made, "so where did this sudden change of opinion come from?"

"I had assumed an advanced prototype like you would be cooperative in a mission it had been assigned to previously, but it seems after a quick observation that perhaps there _were_ side affects from your software instabilities," RK900 replied, smirking when Connor bumped against the dining table, "but shall I enlighten you? I know what Amanda truly thought of you. And I know what your entire existence was meant for."

"And what is that?" Connor asked softly, glaring at him. However, there was an unsure infliction in the question.

RK900 raked his eyes over him, "you were always meant to be replaced by me."

The android's LED flickered yellow for a second, and he looked away with a scoff, "the Lieutenant will never see me in you."

"That's correct," the android replied, caging Connor in as he placed his hands on the table, pulling the prototype's gaze back up to him with his low whisper, "he _won't_ see you. He will see something _better_."

The expression to that statement threw the younger android off. He had intended to provoke the smaller android, expected rage on him, but not... whatever _this_ was.

The smaller android's eyes, which were glaring at him so defiantly a moment ago, slowly lost their edge and shifted into a pained expression.

No retort came from him. His LED stayed on red and his next words surprised the taller android.

"You don't think I'm already _aware_ of that...?" he whispered softly, shifting his gaze downward in defeat.

RK900 frowned. This was not a reaction he had hoped for. But then again, what would have been the purpose of getting the reaction he had been wanting to tug out of the android? There had been no direction to the dialogue they had pursued, and it had been entirely pointless to have sat here and argued over the use of the prototype.

He pushed himself away from the table, grimacing at the software instability that had risen from the argument. This had been counterproductive. He stared at the other android, contemplating his nexts words carefully until the sound of a doorknob jiggling caught their attention. RK900 glanced at the hallway, and then turned to the window.

It was already morning and he didn't even notice.

Connor quickly jolted up straighter as Hank stepped into view, tired eyes forcing themselves open from having just woken up. He looked between the two, eyes finally landing on Connor.

"Holy shit...you're-you're actually _back_ ," he stated in a faint whisper, stepping closer to the android.

Connor stared at the older man in awe, and his red LED dialed down to blue.

Hank.

It was Hank.

He felt the corner of his lips threatening to curl up until he recalled the last interaction had with him. The one he had on the roof. And how he had so rudely talked about his son.

It didn't require a self-diagnosis to know that his stress levels had risen dramatically.

His face began to overheat and he suddenly couldn't bring himself to even attempt a preconstruction of what the Lieutenant had to say to him about his sudden appearance. What kind of reaction was he expecting from the Lieutenant? He knew he was mentioned, but in what light had it been?

The LED that had stabilized to blue was suddenly hiking back up to red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, way to make an impression, Nines. Pretty fucked up way to pull a pigtail, yah dickwad. How you gunna expect the boi to help you now? 
> 
> RK900: You were supposed to be an obedient machine!  
>    
> Connor: I serve humans, asshat-900, not your hideous mug!  
>    
> RK900: My mug is exactly like your mug, tho?!  
>    
> Connor: Oh please, I am WAY cuter than you  
>    
> RK900: *nods approvingly* I mean, shit, you ain't wrong  
>    
> Connor:  
>    
> RK900:  
>    
> RK900: I MEAN Uh NO YOU'RE NOT YOU UGLY-ASS _MUPPET_


	12. EXTRA: Quarantine AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU where Coronavirus happens in their time, and the characters are in quarantine. I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING. BUT HEAR ME OUT. Yes, cheap plot, gets kinda gaggy too, but I wanted to play with potential dynamics of these three, since it's been so long, and I came up with this during, well, Quarantine. Tbh the virus gets mentioned very little aside from being stuck in the house. There is an implication that it's within the premise of my plot, but it's not canon to my actual story (for the obvious reasons). I also wanted to write a lighthearted short because I'm about to hit the major feels in these next few chapters and need to hype myself up. And now that you've been warned of shit hitting some fans, you'll want to sniff some of this comic relief gag before you hop back into the story.  
> (It is implied they've deviated and RK900 is called Nines here.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for disappearing, it was going to be much shorter (to focus on finals), but I got struck with some external matters and I kinda had to put the fic in the back-burner for a bit. Good news: still gunna continue, likely still gunna have staggered updates, since I have a bit of a full plate as of now, but bear with me until I get things settled into calmer waters. I will be answering to all the comments, but it will take a few days since they were so in depth, and I want to take the time to really marinate the mentioned topics. (Also for my multi-shippers reading my other story, I have an update in the oven and an excitement announcement pending there too!)
> 
> I just want to thank you guys for reading this story. Yes, it's a self-indulgent story, but I've really enjoyed the readers I've had so far; you guys are super analytical, make helpful commentary, (many of you are licensed and certified for it too, lol), and just bring in such wonderful discussions to the table. It really brings up topics to contemplate over and really consider in the story. I see some of you guys touch on things I didn't even consider. Overall it is such a lovely community in the comments section, I could cry, maybe I did, ya'll would never know... (okay you caught me, I did). And even the little stuff makes me happy, too! Like a quick mention of feels (cuz oh god there are feels) or just the mentions of my cheesy notes (100% makes me chuckle when ya'll mention them). This ship isn't exactly rare, but I'm glad people found an interest in this premise. And my RK900, whom, to confess, I'd always imagine as a calm and polite introvert. And it makes me laugh because he ended up being the exact opposite in this universe, lmao. Just a Roast Toaster900 with zero chill.

"We've already stocked enough supplies to last until next month, Hank," Connor commented, stopping his superior from leaving the front door, "I don't see why you feel it is necessary to go to the store. You shouldn't be leaving during this pandemic."

"Do you realize how long a month is for a guy like me and two stubborn androids like you to be squatting in a house?" Anderson replied tiredly, "we're gunna kill each other before the damn disease ever could!"

"I have no fear of contracting a disease," the taller android replied, surfacing next to Hank, "and I would be the survivor of any potential Battle Royal in this household. Truly, I would be fine on either front."

"You wouldn't be able to kill Sumo," Connor stated, gesturing at the dog. Nines glance over at Sumo, who turned to look at them from the sound of his name, parting his mouth and he panting lightly.

Drool started dripping thickly onto the carpet from his mouth. 

His tail thumped lightly against the floor and he let out an soft whine of excitement.

Connor watched the glare on Nines slowly morph into indecisiveness.

"I'm certainly capable of... well, if I were to... I wasn't referring to him in my preconstructions," Nines argued, crossing his arms, "Sumo would be inactive during the entire battle, as he is a pacifist. Why would I actively kill a pacifist dog? Wasteful use of energy."

"You're fucking scared of him," Hank cackled, "all Sumo would have to do is drool on you and you're wasted. It's fucking hilarious."

"I have _discomforts_ with his drool, but it's not to the point where he could incapacitate me," Nines retorted. He tilted his chin up, "after all, I've held his head in my lap several times since our first encounter."

"Yeah, but you complain about the dog hairs and drool stains for days," Hank argued, "god, it's gotta be insulting to my pal when you whine about _that_ , yet are perfectly fine with prancing around some random dipshits house and happily rolling in piss and blood on the floor." 

"I am not wiping the matter all over my body," Nines argued, "it's a very controlled process in which—,"

"You literally eat it!"

"It's sampled, not ingested, Hank," Connor retorted.

"Don't defend him!"

"I'm defending _myself,_ as well," the prototype pressed.

"Oh yeah. Well, _both_ of you are gross," Anderson concluded.

" _We're_ gross?" The taller android commented, "you are the organic who produces the very matter you find so disgusting."

"Says the dumbass who finds the matter he was programmed to _sample_ gross!" Hank threw back.

"Perhaps he does now, but Nines has been making progress with Sumo," Connor pipped in, "he sends me screenshots of his 'canine exposure' sessions. There are quite a few. Sometimes in front of the mirror to include himself. He has an entire section dedicated to this stored in—"

"Yes, yes, I am attempting to gain progress with my inexplicable glitch of judgement," Nines quickly interrupted, glancing at the smaller android, "so I report to Connor and have data. I send them to you because you enjoy Sumo, Connor. Don't phrase things in a way that sounds less professional."

"There's nothing wrong with taking selfies with a dog, Nines," Connor replied, throwing him a coy smile, "but I do enjoy any updates related to Sumo."

"It's for _research_ ," Nines argued, looking around until his eyes landed back on Hank, "and aren't we veering off topic? Weren't you were scolding Anderson for trying to leave?"

"Wow, you're a real piece of work, just the epitome of subtlety," Anderson huffed, but continued regardless, "look, I just want to get some fresh air."

Connor was immediately by his side, turning him around and tucking his hands behind his back, "then maybe we can spend some time in the backyard, if you'd like," he offered.

"Yes, we can make you walk laps to release your pent up energy like Sumo," Nines added nonchalantly, following closely behind, "and instead of a chew toy, I can throw you a burger, to give you an incentive—"

Connor's hand slowly made its way to clamp the taller android's mouth shut, "perhaps we can mow the lawn? The backyard seems a little neglected recently." 

"Only if I can mow that asshat's head off along with the grass," Hank replied dryly.

Nines rose his brow, and Hank could already see the sarcastic statement loading up. He interjected before he could fire it out.

"I know you can't be destroyed by the lawnmower, but goddamn it, kid, you make me want to work that miracle sometimes." 

"I would be missed," the RK900 retorted, "clearly Connor is too soft to be willing to banter to our levels. You cannot deny you enjoy the concept of teasing without consequence."

"Being an asshole is not a redeemable trait," Hank commented.

"I _can_ banter, I simply choose to refrain," Connor pouted, darting his gaze between them, "and I do it with wit, not petty insults."

Hank turned to Connor, "I _just_ said being an asshole isn't a fucking compliment, dammit!"

"No, you specifically said _'redeemable trait',_ " Nines retorted cheekily, replicating his superior's voice on the phrase.

"I swear to god, Nines—,"

"Besides," the younger android interrupted, addressing Connor, "you are only considerate until someone questions your capability. You can be quite prideful for someone so non-confrontational. Given the right parameters, it's like a activating a switch. You suddenly become cunning or hostile."

"That statement is set up for me to lose no matter how I answer it," Connor replied, affronted. 

Nines smiled, "Ah. Then do proceed to answer, I like the prospect of winning."

"Likely due to the fact that you use underhanded means," Connor replied, earning a small frown from the taller android.

"I'm fair. I win more than you on level planes due to design," he stated, his hands slipping behind his back, "you cannot fault me for what I was built to be."

"It certainly depends on what 'winning' stipulates," Connor countered nonchalantly.

"Oh? And what may that be? Being older? Unlike humanity, age is not wisdom for an android. The newer the model, the more knowledgeable. Ah. But even then, most would assume I'm older because of your height."

" _Very_ mature, Nines. Of all the knowledge you claimed to have, you still chose to aim for my height? But I suppose that was not included in your list: _maturity_ ," Connor replied, "such is youth, I suppose."

"That's right Connor, roast that son of a bitch," Hank called out, elbowing the smaller android.

"Anyone can win if they are egged on by the majority of the social circle," the taller android argued, throwing Anderson an unimpressed look, "Connor could say the most trivial insult, and if you encourage him, then clearly I'm going to lose. I'd have no way of winning such a rigged battle."

"I'm sorry Nines," Connor began coolly, "but getting along with my superior is a product of being amiable and understanding social cues. One _could_ argue it's due to my design, and...," he pitched his voice down to that of his successor, " _you cannot fault me for what I was built to be._ "

"OoooH!" Hank cried out, slapping his thigh.

"I'm glad you are being so thoroughly entertained, Lieutenant," the taller android voiced dryly.

He then turned to Connor, nodding at him, "But my point was proven. A switch."

"You tend bring out the worst in me, I'll admit," Connor sighed.

"Worst? I think you are competitive, but don't allow yourself to be," the taller android commented, "you hold yourself back far too much from what you could be capable of."

"There is a time and place for such behavior. I could argue that you have no self-restraint in your offense," Connor counted, "it's a wonder why Reed hasn't shot you."

"Reed fears me," Nines stated, smirking, "I'm sure he thinks I would catch the bullet with my teeth if he were ever to attempt."

"Yeah but only because he's seen what Connor was capable of," the Lieutenant chimed in, "he's only got his imagination to figure what you could do to him."

"Well, our model is quite lethal, it's why the prospect of deviating is much more frightening for androids such as ourselves," Nines commented.

"Too late for that," Anderson muttered lowly.

"We're not going to kill you, Hank," Connor reassured him.

"I mean, I believe _you_ , but I'm not so sure your glow-up with blue contacts is against murdering."

"Please, I could never," Nines began, "for the same reason you would not go out of your way to kill a caterpillar. There are far better things to do that are worth my time than to concern myself with lesser beings."

"Wow," the Lieutenant commented, "how you manage to be both reassuring and an asshole must be a talent. Does it hurt to be so insufferable?"

"I would not be so quick to judge, Lieutenant," the younger android stated, "my presence here contributes to your well-being. Connor and I are state of the art androids capable of processing, identifying, and even eradicating the contaminates of this virus before it can even get within the perimeters of your property. You should be thanking us for even considering to, as you put it, _squat_ in your house."

"I mean all of that is void to me unless you find the _cure,_ " Hank retorted, "I don't _want_ to squat."

"Ungrateful—," Nines hissed, his LED running yellow for a moment before recollecting himself, "Connor, please look away. I am going to kill him."

"We weren't built for that, Hank," Connor replied to Anderson, looking at him as he stepped in front of Nines to block him.

"Yeah, Yeah, I know. I'm just going a little insane here. To think that the first week was like heaven," the Lieutenant commented, "God forbid I have human contact, right? But then it just became unbearable to stay cooped up. I mean, even mentioning _Reed_. Hell, I never thought I'd actually _miss_ him."

"You don't mean that," Connor stated blandly, earning a snort from Nines.

"Look, I never said _you_ missed him," the superior replied in amusement.

The newer android leaned down, his tone lighthearted as he looked at the shorter android, "did you know he has cats?" he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I was conflicted. Perhaps I should have stayed with him, instead?"

Connor turned sharply to look at him. Nines threw him a playful look, but the look wavered as Connor's expression slowly relaxed into a carefree look.

"I see," he stated, "I was unaware you had masochistic tendencies."

"What?" Nines replied, frowning.

"I assumed you were a sadist," Connor elaborated, "but perhaps you secretly prefer someone who orders you around? Elusive cats, abusive humans... do you wish to be treated with disrespect?"

"It would be impossible for Reed to take me down," Nines countered, "and we both know I'm far too competitive to allow anyone to walk over me."

The taller android watched carefully as Connor approached him, "Are you sure your competitive nature is not simply a ploy in your pursuit to provoke? I could test it right now, if you wish. Punch you in the abdomen, have you fall to your knees-" he lightly pushed his finger against the other's LED, "and order you around? Would that satisfy your Reed withdrawals?"

Nines would not deny making a quick preconstruction of this. It was virtually impossible for the prototype, as he was built sturdier than to collapse by one punch near his pump regulator (a design addressed _because_ of the scenario Connor was referring to). But then his preconstructions trailed off into the prospect of Connor giving him orders. Hovering over him with a fiercely confident gaze, pulling him up by the lapels of his jacket.

...Was that something they could study further?

Connor must have read something in his face because he blinked at him in surprise.

"Do you actually—?" Connor trailed off, and the RK900 realized that he had yet to reply.

"Well, not exactly in _that_ context—," Nines began in an offended tone.

"Eugh, this is a PG household, you horny bastards," Anderson interrupted in disgust.

Connor realized they were not alone, and giving his superior a sheepish look, "sorry Lieutenant."

Anderson rolled his eyes at the sight, "you guys are fucking unbelievable. I'm not gunna be a third wheel to whatever the hell you hormonal narcissists are up to."

"It was hardly as inappropriate as you are making it out to be, so please refrain from exposing us to your lewdly guided dramatics," Nines rolled his eyes, "our experimentation has only ever been about design exploration. We haven't even engaged in sexual intercourse."

"Holy shit, kid, did it _look_ like I wanted to know that much?" Anderson replied incredulously. He shook his head, trying not to picture any imagery before pausing.

"But you know what? I _do_ believe you," the man began, throwing Nines a smug look, "because every time you shoot your shot, Connor just swerves." 

Connor frowned at the older man in confusion, his LED spinning as he took in the references.

"Rejection," Nines informed him in a deadpanned manner, "he is referring to your rejections to my pursuits."

"Oh," Connor stated lightly.

"You have no mercy for someone who is trying to romantically engage with you," Nines stated with a defeated sigh, "on top of the fact that we are quarantined together."

"I haven't closed off interest, Nines," Connor explained, "we are attempting to understand each other better first, given our shaky encounter. Compatibility is important, and considering I am the only android you've held recreational conversations with, I don't want you to confuse analytical interest with pursuit of romance."

"Such a thing will prove to be difficult to confirm given our current situation," the taller android addressed, gesturing at his superior, "especially when we are being chaperoned. Any more intimate experimentation would be impossible. Tell me, Connor, how would we know if my lack of showcasing sexual desire is a result of disinterest? And not simply because I am exposed to the face of Lieutenant Anderson, sneezing into his cereal in a mad attempt of ending himself with self-inflicted bio-warfare?"

"The fucking disrespect," Anderson huffed.

"Hank wouldn't sneeze into his cereal," Connor countered.

" _Thank_ _you_ ," the Lieutenant punctuated, nodding at the android.

"He doesn't eat cereal, so he would more likely sneeze into his coffee."

"Oh _fuck_ you too, Connor."

"Of my entire commentary you refer to the technicalities of Anderson _sneezing?"_ Nines turned to his superior, gesturing at the shorter android, "Is this a _swerve_? Please tell me you are bearing witness to this."

"That was unintentional," the other android explained, "I was momentarily distracted with the discrepancies made in the scenario."

"God save me," Hank muttered, turning away and heading to his backyard, "I hate this fucking quarantine. You guys win, I'm not leaving, but I ain't staying here to watch a two-star novela. I'm gunna go mow the lawn. Let me know when you both pull you're heads outta your asses."

The two androids watched as Anderson strode off, stepping outside to do what he had informed them he'd do. Connor then slowly shifted his gaze at Nines, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"Are you really a masochist?" Connor asked softly, in awe.

"I have no idea, I've never dabbled in the concept," Nines stated obtusely, feeling the brown eyes of his predecessor penetrating his chassis, "regardless, I'm not sure why you are staring at me like that, it's not an uncommon preference. And to clarify, I'm not implying that I'd enjoy the brand of 'affection' Reed would provide. I simply found the concept of a strong character appealing."

After a beat of silence, Connor spoke up.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

The android's expression was unreadable, and Nines felt hesitant to answer, "...proceed."

"...Are you sure the person you are interested in this household isn't Hank?" Connor asked.

Nines could feel the life drain out of him, dissolving into a plane of disassociation so he would not have to process that question. But Connor continued, the corner of his mouth curling just enough for Nines to notice he was teasing.

"Because he's bossy, and you both throw insults at each other—"

The taller android turned sharply, walking off to put some distance between them. Sadly this house was only so big, "please think about your theory, consider the sheer and utter stupidity of it, then promptly eradicate it from your memory drive."

"I'm simply acknowledging the correlating variables, Nines," the prototype offered, following Nines and peering up at him, "wouldn't it be foreplay to you—?"

The taller android abruptly stopped in his tracks, grimacing as he pressed his face against his palm, "Please excuse me, I will be going to lay on the grass and allow the Lieutenant to slice me apart into several minuscule pieces with the lawnmower."

"Is that also—?"

"IT IS NOT, CONNOR."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This universe's Connor, has seen/done some major shit. While not necessarily evil, I just don't think he's going to be the innocent and bashful android who gets protected by his strong and powerful successor. (Although I find that premise VERY cute. Love me some soft RK1700, despite my story's premise, oof) So the idea of him being assertive and wearing the pants in the relationship is something that I really find interest in. Whether they turn out to be how this short was really depends on the future developments, so it may be slightly different. The dynamic between the two androids is still developing, and there will be a lot questioning for both of them on what being "better" and "stronger" actually can mean. But boi we are totally not there at this point in the story, haha...ha. ahem. :(  
>    
>    
> RK900: Don't be intimidated, Nines. Try to preconstruct the smol prototype attempting to be bossy  
> *Insert powerbottom Connor imagery*  
> RK900: OH NO HE'S HOT-


End file.
